Running and Hiding
by RiverWriter
Summary: Hermione couldn't bear to stay in Britain after the war. But she left a wake of questions behind her as well as a best friend who missed her very much. What happens when he eventually decides to track her down in an entirely new environment? Can they renew their friendship? Could it be something more?
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

"Hello Stranger."

Hermione was bent over, digging through a drawer, and she nearly slammed her head against her desk at the sound of that familiar voice. She sat up and almost burst into tears at the sight of her best friend leaning casually against her office door.

But all she could bring herself to say was: "You grew a beard."

"Well hello to you too," his words were friendly. However, they didn't match his dark expression, and Hermione suddenly felt what it must be like to face this wizard across the table in an interrogation room. But when their eyes met something flickered behind that striking green gaze and he gave her a crooked smile. "And yes, you weren't around to nag me into shaving, so I just didn't. You know how I hate doing it."

"Oh," she let out in a rush of breath. "Well, I'm glad that I wasn't, it suits."

"Thanks, Gin thinks so too, Molly hates it." He smiled at her, the smile that reminded her of the eleven-year-old boy she'd met on the Hogwarts Express.

Hermione's heart clenched at the mention of his fiancée, but she did her best to school her features and remind herself that she was happy for them. Ginny was Harry's choice, she was a good person who made him happy, and- most importantly-she loved him. "How is Ginny...and everybody?"

"Ginny's good," he said with a soft, indulgent smile on his face. Hermione had to resist the urge to press a hand to her sternum in an attempt to alleviate the ache in her chest at the sight. "She's living her quidditch dream. Still loves being with the Harpies and she's practically a shoe in to make the English team for the next World Cup."

"Good for her," Hermione muttered.

"Molly and Arthur are the same, eating up being grandparents."

Hermione continued to nod along as she tried to find something on her desk to keep her attention off of his face.

"Fleur's pregnant again, she's quit Gringotts to be a full time mum."

Hermione kept nodding and made a concerted effort not to comment on that. She had a sneaking suspicion that decision hadn't been the French witch's idea, but it was none of her business, if she'd ever had any right to give her opinion, she'd long ago relinquished it.

"Charlie is Charlie," Harry let out a little laugh, but Hermione knew exactly what he meant. The second Weasley son was one of a kind. "Percy and Audrey had their first child, did you hear about that?"

"I heard they were expecting," she confessed, shamefaced that she hadn't even been aware that the baby had been born.

"Well, they named her after Molly. On top of that, Percy's moving up in the Ministry, just like he always wanted. And I expect a baby announcement from George and Angelina at any time. WWW is growing all the time, keeps them on their feet, but I saw Angelina cooing over Molly the other day and I recognized the look on her face," he chuckled.

"Baby fever?" She surmised.

"Yep," he winked at her.

There were a few beats of uncomfortable silence that made Hermione want to cry as she wondered to herself how they had reached this point.

"And your wedding plans, how are they coming along?" She eventually ventured.

"Honestly," he sighed, "Molly's being difficult. I think she sees this as an opportunity to basically show off her hospitality to the entire country- because we are going to have to let at least a few members of the press in. She wanted to hold it at the Burrow."

"But it's tradition for the groom and his family to host the wedding!" She gasped. If Harry hadn't known Molly as well as he did, that suggestion could have been interpreted as a major insult to his House.

"I know. She told me that she considered me one of her own, which is-" he blew out a breath, "really nice, but it doesn't change the facts. I had to explain to her that while I'm grateful for everything she's done for me over the years, I'm a Potter. Ginny is marrying into my House and the wedding is my responsibility. I think I hurt her feelings but, Merlin Hermione, can you imagine what people would say? It's already difficult to get some of the purebloods to take me seriously because I was raised in the muggle world."

Hermione just shook her head in disbelief. Molly Weasley lived in her own world, she meant well, but it often made it difficult to deal with her. There were a few beats of silence and then Hermione took a deep breath.

"And Ronald, how is he? Is he here?"

"No," Harry shook his head with a fond smile. "I'm here on a six month exchange to help train some new cadets and get some advanced training of my own in return. You know Ron. He's a good auror, but he's not overly ambitious. Honestly, I think he was relieved not to be chosen, he likes to stay within apparition distance of his mother's cooking."

Hermione just nodded.

"Frankly," he continued, "I think he'll probably put in his ten years, retire from the corps, and buy into WWW. George will certainly be in need of another partner by then and I know he'd prefer to keep it in the family. Plus, he's seeing Lavender Brown again, it's gotten pretty serious and she's not a huge fan of his job."

"Oh," Hermione blurted in surprise. "Lavender. Wow, how's that going?"

He met her eyes knowingly in response to that startled reaction and smirked.

"I don't mean to criticize," she defended. It was true, she'd just believed Ron had been well and truly done with the witch after their first relationship. She could honestly say there was no jealousy there, just surprise.

"Better than it was in sixth year," he chuckled. "She's grown up, I guess the war changed us all. Anyway, she's good for him, she dotes."

And there it was.

Hermione sighed in frustration. "You mean she's good for him the way that I wasn't."

"That's not what I said and it's definitely not what I meant." He ran a hand through his hair in a gesture that Hermione knew also demonstrated how frustrated he was becoming. He'd spent most of their fifth year tugging at his hair at the very sight of Doelores Umbridge. "If you recall I supported you when you broke up with him _and_ when you decided to move to America."

She'd basically fled from Britain in shame. Not over the breakup with Ron exactly, but that she'd allowed herself to be in the relationship to begin with. She'd settled for a man she was comfortable with because she couldn't have the one she really wanted. A man she'd known she could never fully trust again after his actions during the war. She'd run from her own cowardice, which was, in and of itself, cowardly. But it was what she was convinced she had needed at the time.

"Yeah, but you expected me to have my little adventure and then move back to Britain, throw myself at Ron's mercy and hope he would take me back and we could all be one big happy family," she countered.

Harry pushed away from her door, planted himself in the middle of the doorway, feet shoulder width apart, arms crossed over his chest and glared at her. Most people probably would have been intimidated by the power he radiated. She just thought that he was beautiful.

"I did and still do wish that you would move home, but not for Ron, _I miss you_." He hissed. "And yes, there was a time I hoped the two of you would end up together. But with time and distance, and especially seeing Ron with Lavender, I've realized how unsuited the two of you are. I said that Lavender dotes on him. He needs that, he needs a woman who will make him and their family her whole world. You're far too ambitious to ever be that woman. Which is fine, Hermione. I have great admiration for your ambition. You shouldn't have to change for him nor should he have to change for you."

"Oh," she breathed, feeling thoroughly chastised.

"Yes," he snapped.

She frantically looked around her desk for something to distract her again. "You said that you were here on a six month exchange? You must have known about that for awhile. Why didn't you tell me you were coming?"

He scoffed. "Oh I don't know Hermione, maybe I didn't want to give you a chance to find another place to hide."

"Hide? I haven't been hiding."

"Which is why nobody has heard from you in months?" He stormed into her office proper, but stopped a few feet in front of her desk, and it was obvious that he was reigning in his temper. "Why you never come home? If you're not hiding from us, what are you doing?" He demanded.

"I've just been busy! You know how I am," she defended. "And I've been back," she added weakly.

"Hermione, this isn't getting lost in the library and missing lunch. I haven't heard a word from you in months! Your letters keep getting shorter and shorter, and you haven't been back since the Christmas before last. That's almost two years!"

"I had a big project I was working on last December!"

He removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose before replacing them and spearing her with that emerald glare. "We would have come to see you, if we'd been invited. But we weren't, we never have been!"

Hermione looked away, she didn't have an excuse. At least not one that she could share Harry, no matter how furious he was. She couldn't explain that it was too difficult to watch him with another woman. That the longer she was gone the easier it became to lock that heartache away, but the more difficult it became to contact anybody from her old life. And, as a result, her correspondence had become fewer and further between until it had dropped off almost completely. She missed them, but she learned to bury herself in her work and her life in America, and the pain had been reduced to a dull ache that she could mostly ignore.

"I supported you when you said you were moving because I understood. I could have used a break from Britain too, but I had House responsibilities that made that impossible," he added to her guilt. "But if I'd known you were just going to disappear from our lives I would have chained you to the radiator!"

"I didn't disappear!" She shot back frantically, knowing that she was lying even as the words left her mouth.

"Yes you did!" His magic crackled around him, and far from being afraid, as she was sure most people would have been, Hermione had to grip the arms of her chair to keep from running to him. "You don't know the simplest things about anybody's life. People have started to talk about you in the past tense! As far as Teddy and Victoire are concerned, you're basically a myth! Were you even planning on coming to my wedding!?"

She opened her mouth to answer but he interrupted. "Never mind, I don't want to watch you lie to me again. Tell me though, do you just not care about any of us? Because I'm out of the country for work a lot, but I make it a point to be home for the important things."

"It's different for you, you have a place there, you have family!"

He paused then, and his face dissolved into an expression of such utter sadness that it was difficult to continue to hold her head up against the burden of having hurt him.

"And what am I? Because I certainly counted you as family. I thought you were the woman who would always be there, no matter what! But now I'm starting to think I was just a project you marked complete at the end of the war." He laughed, a long bitter sound. "Well, congratulations! We won, I guess that counts as an Outstanding for you Miss Granger!" He turned on his heel, marched out of the office, and slammed the door behind him.

She just stared at it for the longest time. "You, Harry, you are _everything_ ," she eventually whispered, far too late. And then she laid her head down on her desk and cried.

What had she done?


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Harry attempted to school his expression into something neutral, or at least less furious, and to moderate his stride. He couldn't be seen storming through the halls of MACUSA on his first day. He wasn't as well known in America as he was in Europe, but he was still recognizable and it wouldn't be good to get a reputation as a nutcase before he'd even really begun his program.

He wasn't particularly successful.

He hadn't meant to lose his temper like that. He'd just wanted to see her. But then they'd devolved into small talk- their precious relationship had been reduced to small talk- and he couldn't contain himself.

Where had it all gone wrong?

He'd missed her so much. She had been his rock for so long. The idea that she didn't feel the same made him feel frail and so he'd snapped.

He stormed into the office he'd been assigned to share with the training partner who'd traveled with him from Britain and slammed that door as well.

"Things didn't go well with Granger, then?"

He would have been embarrassed, but he'd never cared what Malfoy thought of him and he didn't intend to start now.

"It's like she's an entirely different person," he bellowed- he didn't know what he'd expected, for her to run to him, embrace him, tell him how sorry she was for being distant? Would that have made things okay? If he was being honest, probably not, her inexplicable disappearance from his life was devastating, a smile and a hug wouldn't have simply fixed that. But he would at least have liked to know that she'd missed him too. He didn't even think she'd been happy to see him, at best she'd seemed surprised.

"Well that's unfortunate, given that your entire reason for taking this assignment was to reconnect with her."

"It was not," Harry shot back in a tone that was known to send junior aurors scrambling.

The blond didn't even flinch. "You accepted a politically motivated posting- which you never do-"

"So did you," Harry snapped.

"Yes, because it's good for my career. When I decided to become an auror I accepted that I'd be proving myself my whole career, I'd have to allow them to trot me out as the reformed Death Eater, a symbol that things are changing in Britain. You, on the other hand, have absolutely nothing to prove and you hate being used for your status as the boy-who-lived, and yet you're allowing it this time."

Harry couldn't argue with that, which only increased his irritation.

"As I was saying, you accepted this posting, against the wishes of your fiancée- and I can only assume, her entire family as well- yet you expect me to believe it wasn't because of the woman you asked after immediately upon our arrival? I keep my own counsel, Potter, but I'm not a fool. You're here to convince Granger to march her little arse home. For what reason, I don't pretend to understand and I won't speculate, because the last thing I want to get involved in is some drama between the Golden Trio, but don't insult my intelligence."

Harry sighed and flopped into a chair. "I would love for her to come home, but I'm not going to try and talk her into it- by all accounts she has a good life here and I wouldn't take that from her. But I did think I could find...answers. I thought she would still be Hermione and she would at least talk to me like she used to."

"Answers to what?"

"I understand why she moved away, she needed some space. But why does she hardly ever write, much less visit? It wasn't always like this, at first it felt like I was barely able to finish reading one letter before she sent another. She came home twice that first year but now… I thought she'd need less space over time, not more. What happened? _Does_ she ever plan to come home?"

"I can't believe you're telling me this."

"I can't either. Where's your wife? I thought she was coming to pick you up? I'd much rather tell this to her pretty face."

"I'd much rather you did too, she probably got distracted sightseeing and lost track of time," he sighed dramatically. "Well, in for a penny in for a pound."

Harry didn't believe his dramatics for a second, Malfoy was a nosy little ferret and was surely eating this up. "That's a muggle expression," Harry couldn't help but needle him a little.

"I'm aware," he responded with a roll of his eyes. "Back to Granger, can you really blame her if she's changed? The war changed us all. And people grow apart, isn't that what they say. You haven't lived in the same country in what, four years?"

"Our friendship isn't like that," he pouted, but his doubts were growing.

Malfoy shrugged. "Maybe she just doesn't want you and your pack of Weasleys in her life as a constant reminder of the way our society looks at people like her- no matter what the Minister's trying to sell here. Maybe she just wants to escape the memories. You say she has a good life here, I heard some senior Aurors talking about her earlier, she gets far more respect here than she would at home."

"I know that, I just never thought I would lose her."

"Look, you have six months here to figure it out," he shrugged again. "But it's worth considering if maybe she's not better off left alone."

Harry _hadn't_ considered it from that angle, it was too painful. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose as he tried to imagine a life without Hermione- permanently.

"Merlin, Potter, you're not going to cry, are you?"

And suddenly wiping the floor with a ferret seemed like just the thing to make him feel better. "Are you up for a duel? I need to get rid of some of this energy."

"I'm always ready to kick your arse," Malfoy snickered.

* * *

Meanwhile, Hermione had pulled herself together and made some decisions.

The good thing about being in love with your best friend was that you got to see them all the time.

The terrible thing about being in love with your best friend was that you were expected to see them all the time..

Well, the second part was only true if that love was unrequited. And Hermione Granger's love for Harry Potter definitely qualified as such. She'd lived with that truth for years. She'd had a crush on him probably from the moment he'd run into that bathroom and jumped on a troll's back, saving her life.

But she'd known it was something much deeper than that from the time she'd been fifteen. Her terror for him during the tournament had been unlike anything she'd ever experienced before. However, she'd also realized that, unless he ever expressed an interest in her, that she could never tell him, he was too important to her and she wouldn't risk losing. But more important than that, he had needed her, and she couldn't let her feelings interfere with helping him.

But after the war he hadn't needed her anymore. She'd left England to protect herself from the shame of the position she'd put herself in with Ron, but also from the exhaustion she'd begun to feel hiding her feelings for Harry as she watched him with Ginny. However, she'd never meant to make him feel abandoned, the last thing she'd wanted was to hurt him,

The very thought that she'd made him feel unimportant or unloved was like a stake to the heart.

It was time to fix it.

She went to the bathroom to splash some water on her face and make sure she didn't look as terrible as she felt, and then she made her way towards the Auror Department. She was mentally preparing what she was going to say to him and so she barely noticed when the lift doors opened, much less who stepped in beside her.

"Hermione Granger!"

Her head shot up at the cry of her name and she looked at her companion. Astoria Greengrass- no, Malfoy. _That_ wedding had been splashed all over the papers she still subscribed to from home. She'd been surprised at the time, she knew he'd joined the aurors but Malfoy must actually have changed to have landed this witch. Hermione had only known her a little at Hogwarts, but unlike her sister she'd sorted into Ravenclaw and so it hadn't been taboo for her to associate with Gryffindors, and on more than one occasion she'd sought Hermione out for academic help, so she had gotten to know the younger witch well enough to be aware that she was genuine and intelligent.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," Astoria continued, "I was just surprised to see a familiar face. Though, now that I think about it Draco mentioned that you had moved to America and were working here."

"Oh, it's okay, I was just lost in thought." She made a concerted effort to smile at the other woman, whom, she was surprised to note was wearing a pretty muggle sundress and a pair of sandals. "Hello, Astoria. It's lovely to see you, what are you doing-" she cut herself off as the pieces started to come together. "Malfoy's here with Harry, isn't he?"

Her face fell slightly. "That's right. You didn't know already? I hope that won't be a problem?" She asked carefully.

Hermione shook her head. "No, I guess Harry wanted to surprise me by coming here and when we spoke earlier he didn't mention anything about the team he brought with him. But I have no intention of holding childish grudges."

"Actually it's only him and Harry." Astoria continued to look guarded and Hermione got the impression she was a little too used to having to defend her husband.

"Well, Harry must have come to think quite highly of him," she said casually and watched the witch finally relax as the lift came to a halt at their destination.

As they stepped out into the corridor a senior auror was making his way towards them. "Hey Hermione!" He greeted. "Come to see the show?"

"Show?"

"Potter and the other English guy with the weird name are going to duel," he checked his watch. "Actually they've probably already started, I got tied up on a call." He looked at Astoria, and extended his hand. "Dennis Hawkins."

She smiled and took the preferred hand. "Hello, I'm Astoria Malfoy, the guy with the weird name's wife."

Dennis blanched and Hermione bit back a laugh, he was a good friend and the nicest guy in the world but he had a penchant for putting his foot in it.

Astoria quickly waved him off. "I'm not offended. A lot of people think so, it's a tradition in his mother's family to give children celestial names and his mother's family is more than a little odd." Hermione couldn't help herself, she did laugh at that. "And as you can tell from her reaction, Hermione is acquainted with more than one member of that family."

He just nodded but was clearly relieved. "Well, Potter's reputation precedes him but word is that your husband is a talented fighter himself and so it quickly got around that they were going to duel and I think pretty much everybody on duty is in there watching."

Hermione looked to Astoria, she knew from experience that some people hated to watch their spouses in such a position, it was too much of a reminder of how dangerous their job could be.

She just shrugged. "Always entertaining to watch Draco get beaten, it keeps him humble."

"I wasn't aware he was capable of humility," Hermione remarked without thinking, immediately clapping a hand over her mouth in mortification.

Astoria simply threw her head back and laughed.

Hermione turned to Dennis. "I think we'll just join you, Dennis, before either you or I can say something else embarrassing."

He nodded, winked at her and then led them down the corridor towards the observation room for the training area. Had she been thinking clearly she might have declined Dennis' invitation, or at least braced herself before she entered the room. But while she'd considered Astoria's reaction, she hadn't even paused to consider her own.

Perhaps it was because it had been such a long time since she'd had a flashback, and since her hyper awareness from the war had worn off, or perhaps she was just anxious to see Harry again. Those were the only explanations she could come up with later for why it hadn't been obvious that watching Harry duel Draco Malfoy, of all people, would be a trigger for her.

When Dennis opened she door for them she immediately felt the power of it, even through the magical barrier that separated the observation room from the training room which acted to protect those who were watching, and looked like a muggle two way mirror. But it was mostly Harry's magic that she detected, as she was so attuned to it, and she never had, nor ever could fear Harry, so that's not what set her off.

It was the sight of her best friend, the person she loved more than anybody else in the world, being relentlessly attacked by a person that the primal part of her brain still considered to be the enemy. It didn't matter that other parts of her brain knew that this was- essentially- a friendly duel and that he was in no real danger, or that she could see that he was giving at least as good as he got. Her heart began beating rapidly in her chest, she began having trouble catching her breath, and then she panicked completely.

"Harry!" She shrieked and scrambled for the door, desperate to get to him. But all the entrances to the training area had been locked down because of the active duel. She pulled at the handle with every ounce of strength she possessed and when she remembered to use her wand she began casting every unlocking charm she'd ever even heard of, unaware of the talk going on in the background, of the people pleading with her, of the gentle hands trying to calm her down, until the door finally opened and he was there standing in front of her. She launched herself at him.

He caught her and lowered them both to the floor. Him, she heard, as soon as he began speaking. She matched her breathing to his as he encouraged her to do, and allowed the feeling of his arms around her and his familiar scent calm her, assure her that he was safe, that they were both safe.

Until she was calm enough to realize what had just happened. She pushed against his chest until he released her, looking around as she scooted backwards to see nearly half the auror corps staring at her in shock, but worse, when she finally met Malfoy's eyes they were full of something that looked an awful lot like pity. She felt her face heat and she was filled with an entirely different kind of panic. She rose shakily to her feet and turned on her heel.

"Hermione!" Harry called.

She looked back only long enough to note the expression of profound hurt on his face, but she ran anyway.

 **Author's Note: Thanks to Weestarmeggie for beta reading. And thanks to you all for reading, I'm so thrilled by the love this story has gotten so far!**


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Hermione managed to make it to one of MACUSA's designated apparition points- but just barely. She shouldn't have risked it, but she did at least manage to keep from splinching herself. But again, only just.

And because the universe was obviously toying with her, the first thing she set eyes on when she landed in her apartment was the framed sketch she had sitting on a table just inside her front door which Harry had sent her after he'd been to Prague on a mission a couple of years before. Her heart contracted in her chest at the sight of it.

What was she going to do? She'd been so determined to make things up to him, to win back his friendship and then, in the blink of an eye she'd found herself back in a place where she'd felt utterly helpless, a place only he could pull her out of. It had been a panic attack like that which had sealed her decision to leave England.

Occasionally, during that time in the tent hunting horcruxes, in those months Ron had been gone, when one of them was exhausted and at the end of their rope they would shirk their guard duties and crawl into bed with the other. It hadn't happened often, perhaps only a handful of times, and they'd never talked about it but, at least to Hermione, it had felt like something sacred. Something beautiful and perfect and despite the circumstances she'd never felt safer.

She knew that Harry believed she had been mourning Ron's departure- and she had been, in a way- but mostly she'd just been terrified that Ron's actions had served as a death knell to their mission. She didn't think she could fill the void he'd left by herself, and she'd been certain she was going to fail Harry. Between that and being tired and hungry, she'd been nearly inconsolable. And Harry, who could be tragically emotionally tone deaf, hadn't known how to handle it. But those hours together had been different. Restorative.

And then after Malfoy Manor he seemed to have woken up. He felt so guilty for what had happened to her, for being the trigger for it, that he couldn't rush to her side quickly enough when she was upset, and especially when she began to panic. She tried not to rely on him too much, but there were simply times when he was the only thing that could help her calm down and come back to her own mind.

One night, the summer after her last year at Hogwarts, she'd awoken from a nightmare in screaming terror. She'd been staying at the Burrow and before Ginny could even reach her from just across the room Harry had burst in and taken her into his arms. When she stopped crying and clinging to him, murmuring Merlin knew what into the skin of his neck, she'd pulled back and seen the looks on Ginny and Ron's- who'd apparently followed Harry into the room- faces and she knew. She couldn't stay.

Even if Harry remained ignorant, she knew that both siblings would figure out how she felt about him, if they hadn't already. Ron's expression suggested that he at least suspected already, and she'd hated herself for essentially having led him on, even if she'd already broken up with him.

No, she had to leave.

So, she'd quietly made some inquiries about jobs outside of the country- she had wanted to be further than just a short portkey journey away from home, that would have made the temptation to return on a whim too great, and she also wanted to avoid Australia. It would have been too painful to live in the same country as her parents, who wanted nothing to do with her, even a country that large.

And when she'd received an offer from MACUSA for a position in their magical creatures department she hadn't hesitated to accept. She'd traveled to New York twice with her parents over the course of her childhood and was intrigued by the diversity of the city and variety of sights and activities to keep her occupied. It was like London in that way, but with a much smaller chance she'd run into somebody who would know her by reputation. She rather relished the idea of getting lost in the masses.

When she'd told them Ron had thrown a fit- which was no less than she'd expected- to rival that which he'd thrown when she'd broken up with him. But Harry had been a quiet and steady presence at her side, refusing to let him berate her and fully supporting her decision.

And since she'd moved she'd done the work. She'd gone to therapy, talked out her feelings, learned how to cope with her panic attacks without needing to rely on another person. But she'd also made friends she could rely on when things started to close in and she needed a shoulder to cry on. She'd built a brilliant career and had even dated- though not very successfully.

So it had terrified her how quickly she'd fallen back into old patterns. How much his presence still affected her. She had been certain she would always love Harry, but she hadn't thought she'd needed him the way she used to. Probably because she'd been hiding away from him, which wasn't healthy either. Perhaps it had been necessary four years ago, but it was time to get a handle on this.

Especially because he was going to be here for six months, she had no illusions that she'd be able to avoid him for that long, even if he just let her be- which was very unlike Harry. Knowing he was so close she'd eventually give in and seek him out. Because when he'd been standing before her in the flesh, and she'd taken him in, certain he was taller and broader than the last time she'd seen him, and with that beard which already made him more attractive to her than he ever had been- to an absurd degree, she'd known she couldn't continue to stay away from him.

She dragged herself into her living room and fell onto her couch, only just now becoming aware that she'd left her briefcase at work and her office in disarray. But that didn't compare to the state she'd left the wizard- whom she continued to consider her best friend despite how abominably she'd treated him- in.

So, despite how humiliating this afternoon had been, she would have to suck it up. And the sooner the better. If she waited to go to him he'd just be more suspicious, or worse, more hurt. All he'd done was hold her and help her through a panic attack. There was nothing wrong with that. And she hadn't had one in years, she'd just been caught off guard.

She could do this.

She would let him back into her life, and as she sat there and accepted that idea, her entire being seemed to warm pleasantly at the thought.

She'd go to his wedding, if he still wanted her. She'd be happy for him. And while she fully planned to continue her life here, she vowed to never shut him out again.

And tomorrow, tomorrow she would hug him like she had after she'd woken up from weeks petrified in the Hogwarts infirmary.

* * *

Harry was kneeling on the floor staring at the doorway where his best friend had disappeared- literally running away from him. "What just happened?" He asked nobody in particular.

"She's probably just embarrassed," answered a voice he didn't recognize.

Harry looked up, searching for the source of the voice. "Does that happen a lot? To Hermione," he felt the need to clarify.

"No, I've never seen her like that and I know her pretty well," the man, a senior auror- Hollings or Hawkins if Harry recalled correctly- answered.

He took a deep breath, inhaled and exhaled carefully as he tried to get his bearings. It had been a long time since he'd felt so off-kilter.

"It used to happen, sometimes, after the war," he mumbled, mostly to himself, "but it was usually after a nightmare. I don't understand what triggered her today, was it just me?" He looked around, hoping for an answer amongst this group of strangers, his heart broke at the idea and he'd rarely felt so helpless.

"Merlin, Potter, you're usually not quite this thick, do you just forget how to use your brain when you're in Granger's vicinity because you're used to her doing all your thinking for you?" Malfoy drawled.

"Enlighten me, then," Harry snapped in return.

"It wasn't you, it was me," he huffed. "More specifically, I can only assume, me fighting you. She's never seen us fight anything resembling a friendly duel, her instincts told her you were in danger. It must have been quite a shock for her to see, especially considering she didn't even know I was here."

"She did though," a familiar, feminine voice interrupted and Harry's head whipped around to see Astoria Malfoy, looking like she was attempting to be as unobtrusive as possible in the corner of the room, but whom was also standing proudly, with that perfect pureblood posture you apparently couldn't escape childhood in a traditional family without having learned. "We were on the same lift on the way here, she said it wasn't a problem. And she knew that the two of you would be dueling when we walked in here," she continued

Malfoy smiled at his wife but it was tight and didn't reach his eyes. "But panic attacks aren't logical like that love, just because she knew doesn't mean that she was actually prepared."

Harry sighed. "You're right, of course you're right." He removed his glasses and wiped at his eyes, then finally crawled up off of the floor. He looked at- Hawkins, he was almost certain his name was Hawkins. "She won't face any harassment over this, will she?"

The older man immediately shook his head. "Absolutely not. I'll make sure of it. And anyway, that woman is loved around here, she's a breath of fresh air from our usual research and development people and a lot of us owe her our lives. And she's a warrior in her own right, with more scars than we realized, but there's no shame in that."

Harry was gratified to hear the murmurs of agreement from the others around him. He gave the other man a short nod and strode from the room.

"Harry!" He heard Astoria call before he could make it to the lift. He turned to see her hurrying towards him dragging her husband- who looked quite put upon- behind him. "Are you going after her?"

"No," he shook his head and for some reason, avoided the witch's eyes.

"You should, I think she needs you right now. She was absolutely desperate to get to you, it was hard to watch."

"It was just a flashback, she thought she needed to protect me, like she did when we were kids. That doesn't mean she wants to see the real me," he countered.

"I think she does, that's why she was coming up here."

"Because Hermione is thoughtful and responsible, and I'm an old friend. I'm sure she just thinks she didn't give me a proper introduction to New York and wanted to make up for it."

"I think it's more than that."

"And I think it might have been a mistake to come here. I covered her whole childhood with my messes. I'm here for less than a day and it's already started again. I'm not going to blow up the life she has here by imposing on her any further," Harry said, even as it felt as if his heart was splitting open.

"I think that's a mistake, I think that she needs you right now," she insisted, laying a hand on his forearm.

"Tori," Malfoy interrupted. "He might be right, I always liked to be alone when I was recovering from a panic attack."

Astoria rounded on her husband. "Right, like you've always had the healthiest coping mechanisms," she hissed. "Why don't we ask your father for parenting advice while we're at it?"

Harry bit back a laugh, he had yet to become accustomed to the way the woman casually derided her in-laws. Not that he could blame her, he might owe Narcissa Malfoy a life debt but he wasn't blind, and they treated Astoria- whom Harry believed Malfoy was quite lucky to have convinced to marry him- like she was some kind of consolation prize because they didn't consider her to have come from a prestigious enough family. Also, Astoria had a point, just not about Hermione.

"I can't believe I'm about to say this, but I think Malfoy is right about this. She's made it very clear that she's better off without me, and it's time I respected that decision. You two have a good night." And with that he turned on his heel and continued on down the corridor.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Harry walked aimlessly along the streets of Manhattan; years of constant situational awareness made it easy for him to dart amongst the crowds without upsetting anybody or tripping himself. He had no idea where he was going, though with his training one quick look at a map would have made it easy for him to orient himself, but for the moment he preferred the feeling of being just a little bit lost. His days were usually so purpose driven, it wasn't a familiar feeling, but it suited his mood.

He stopped at the New York Public Library and seated himself on the steps in front of the building as he had seen many other people doing. He wondered if fate had brought him to this place as he was thinking of her. She would hate that idea, far too much like divination for her to tolerate. But he did think she must love it here, he'd read up on the place when he'd been doing research, preparing for a six month stay in this city. Nowhere near the amount of research she would probably deem necessary, but enough to know that this was a book lover's dream.

At least he thought he knew these things about her. Maybe he didn't anymore. That idea had him slumping in on himself.

Was their friendship essentially over? Despite Harry's protests to the contrary, Malfoy had mostly been right about his motives for coming here. There had been several things that had interested him about taking the post, but what had sealed his decision was the opportunity to reconnect with her. A lot of people lost touch with their childhood friends, maybe even most people. But they'd neither had a typical childhood, nor been typical friends, they'd meant so much more to each other. Or so he had thought.

He checked his watch and pulled out his mobile. Ginny was a night owl and there was little chance she was in bed. But it only rang twice on the other end and then her cheerful voice was asking him to leave a message. She had almost certainly forgotten to charge it again. He shrugged to himself and decided to try one more person.

"Teddy's in bed," the voice on the other end answered, instead of a traditional greeting.

He laughed, used to Andromeda's blunt manner. "Well hello to you too."

"Can I assume you rang to talk to me then and didn't just forget the time difference?"

"It's not unheard of."

"You're so kind to an old woman," she sighed dramatically and this time Harry didn't suppress his laughter, Andromeda was barely fifty. "How's the new assignment?" She asked.

Despite his low mood he couldn't pretend that he wasn't generally pleased to be here. "The facilities are impressive and the city seems interesting. I've only been here once before, blowing through in about half a day, so I don't consider myself to have seen it at all. The atmosphere is different within the corps, but in a way I approve of."

"Different?" There was shuffling sound on the other end and Harry imagined that she was settling in to talk to him.

"Nobody seems at all interested in my blood status. Though I suppose my reputation might precede me."

"And how is my nephew taking that?" Andromeda laughed.

Harry knew that they actually got along quite well these days, but that didn't stop it from amusing her when her sister's spoiled son was treated like, well, anybody else.

"Relieved, I think, not that he would ever admit it. But it means that it's a lot less likely anybody is going to be coming out of the woodwork to call him a Death Eater."

Andromeda sighed. "He's turned into a good man, despite the odds."

Harry made a noncommittal noise.

"Don't worry, I won't tell," she said on a laugh. "But may I assume you haven't called me after 11pm for an idle chat?"

"I saw Hermione," he blurted.

There was a distinct pause on the other end of the line.

Andromeda was pretty much the only person left in his life with whom he could discuss Hermione. Everybody else was too personally connected to her, too angry, too...opinionated in one way or another.

Well, he supposed there was Malfoy and Astoria, but that was different. Malfoy had so much history with Hermione, and he told Astoria everything. Andromeda, having only met Hermione on a handful of occasions was mostly objective.

"Oh?" She finally said.

"I'm not sure she was so happy to see me."

"Well you did rather spring it on her, didn't you, dear?"

He sighed. "Well yes, but still, she looked horrified to see me."

"Horrified or surprised? Her life has probably changed a lot since you were in it on a regular basis. Your sudden appearance, and the news you would be staying for six months must have been startling to her."

Harry groaned. "And now you sound like Malfoy."

"Is he wrong?"

"I don't know. I just miss her, I wanted her to be happy to see me."

There was a pause and Harry almost pulled the phone away from his face to make sure it was still connected.

"Well, it's been a few years, you can't expect things to pick up right where they left off, can you?" She responded eventually.

"No. I understand that. But as I was telling Astoria and Draco earlier, maybe I should just leave her alone."

"You went all that way and now you're going to avoid her?" She chucked. "Tell me what happened. Why do you have the impression she was so horrified to see you?"

"Well, after we finished our briefing, I went down to Research and Development to see her- and by the way, I knew she had been promoted to Deputy Director of Research but I didn't know how big that department was, she's thriving here. Anyway, I went to her office to say hello and she just kind of stared at me. She didn't get up to greet me or anything. She asked about everybody and, I don't know, I lost my temper, I started yelling at her and basically demanding to know why she didn't keep in touch more often. I asked her if she cared about us and then I kind of stormed out." And as he spoke, his words began to sink in and he realized how ridiculous he sounded. "Oh Merlin, I've made a mess of things, haven't I?"

"Yes, you certainly could have handled that with more tact. Perhaps, you could make plans to meet with her, don't just spring your presence on her at work, and then sit down to have a talk like rational human beings."

"That's not even all though," he groaned.

"Okay, go on then." He could hear a smile in her voice and assumed she believed he was being dramatic, if only she knew he was really holding back.

"I dueled Malfoy this afternoon, just to relieve some stress. About ten minutes in the moderator brought it to an emergency halt. Hermione was there in the observation room having a panic attack and was basically trying to blast into the training room to get to get to me," he sighed. "I'd forgotten how terrifying it is to watch her lose herself inside of her own mind like that. She jumped on me as soon as she saw me and she calmed down, but then, when she was herself again she immediately ran. She didn't stay with me or let me comfort her at all once she understood what was really going on. And her colleagues said they've never seen anything like that happen to her, so on top of everything else I feel guilty."

"Oh child. What did you expect her to do?"

"Like I said, let me comfort her."

"You also said that it's terrifying to see her lose herself like that, if it's terrifying for you, can you even begin to imagine what it's like for her? Especially since it sounds like she's out of practice coping with the attacks. And to have had one in front of people she works with? Can you really blame her for wanting to get out of there as soon as possible? Now, since you're on the phone with me can I assume that means you didn't go after her?"

"No, Astoria told me to, but I thought it best to leave her alone."

"Well, I don't know her well enough to know what was the best option in this case, but as I said I think you do need to talk to her, to at least clear the air, but in a calm and rational manner."

"I just feel like I keep hurting her. She only has panic attacks in the first place because of me."

"Harry," Andromeda sighed. "You're doing it again. Didn't you tell me that Hermione was the first person to point this out to you, what did she call it? Your saving people thing?"

"Yeah," he said, his breath catching in his throat.

"You can't make everybody happy, just like you can't save everybody and it's not your responsibility to try."

Harry wished he could believe that.

* * *

Hermione may have decided to face Harry in the morning, but for tonight she was going to wallow a little.

She took a large sip of wine and hit the speed-dial for her best friend- her best American friend. Merlin, she was going to have to re-adjust her vocabulary.

"Hi!" Quipped Leah, and Hermione could hear her bustling around her kitchen making dinner.

"Hi," Hermione responded, her own voice sounded absolutely flat.

There was a long pause at the end of the line. "What's going on? No. Wait. Just come over, I'm making shrimp linguini, there's plenty."

It was exactly the invitation she'd been waiting for. She knew that she easily could have just asked to come over and Leah would have welcomed her with open arms, but she was feeling particularly pathetic at the moment.

She automatically apparated into her friend's flat- apartment- as Leah always corrected her.

"Shit, Hermione," the other witch gasped, eyeing her. "Is that an _open_ bottle of wine, what's wrong?"

"I saw Harry."

Leah's eyes went wide and she stepped away from the stove, obviously startled. "Harry? You mean Harry Potter?"

"Don't think I know any other Harrys. None that matter anyway."

"What the hell?"

"He's here on an auror exchange, apparently. For six months. He didn't even tell me, just showed up," surprised by the slur in her voice she looked down at the bottle in her hand and sure enough, it was much emptier than she'd thought.

"Okay, wow, this is going in stasis," Leah gestured to the meal she'd been preparing, "you need grease. And chocolate."

"No, no, it's fine," Hermione assured her.

"This is New York, there's no better place to get pizza before we discuss your long lost love returning to you. We might as well take advantage."

Leah was the only person to whom she'd ever confessed her true feelings for Harry.

"He isn't though," Hermione disputed. "He doesn't feel that way about me. He wants Ginny," she hated the whine in her voice.

"I don't know him, so I don't know if that's true or not. And honestly neither do you, since you've never said anything to him," she let out an exasperated sigh, this was an old debate between them. "But to you, he is your long lost love. Now come. Tell me what happened." She took Hermione's wrist then deftly plucked the wine bottle from her hand, and placed it on the tiny counter of her kitchen. "We can get drunk later if you like, but I need you coherent for now." And then, even as she picked up a cordless phone and easily placed an order for pizza, she led Hermione back into the living area of her apartment.

Hermione fell onto the sofa in an ungraceful heap. "He just appeared in my office Lee, looking better than ever, better than he has any right to, honestly. Gods help me, he was wearing his dragon hide and he grew a beard." She threw an arm across her face. "Oh Merlin, this is not me! I do not swoon over boys."

"Tipsy Hermione is an entirely different person," Leah snickered as she twisted her long blonde hair on top of her head, a sure sign she was settling in for a serious discussion. "Remember that time you did karaoke with that total stranger?"

"Shut up," Hermione pouted, "don't make fun of me right now, I'm having a crisis."

"That's it," Leah continued to snicker, "just go with the dramatics, it'll help you get it all out."

She huffed but didn't comment on that. "Well anyway, he looked really good. We talked for a few minutes and when I asked him why he hadn't told me he was coming, he told me that he didn't want to give me a chance to hide from him."

"Fair point."

"I- yeah, I realize that now."

Leah's eyes went wide. "Wow, he's only been here a day and he's already convinced you of something I've been telling you for years. How many times did I volunteer to go visit England with you? And you know I'm always up for an adventure."

Hermione and Leah had become fast friends when they started in the Creature Department at MACUSA at the same time and bonded over how quickly disillusioned they'd both become with their jobs. They'd both wanted to help advocate for creature rights and were disappointed to discover that they were mostly just mired down in bureaucracy. Even though they'd both moved on from those jobs after less than a year- Hermione to Research and Development after she realized that's what she'd essentially been doing for years at Hogwarts, and Leah quit MACUSA completely to train with a well known naturalist and magizoologist. The two had traveled extensively in the years they'd been friends.

"It's just, I can't even explain it. Everytime I thought about planning a trip I put it off."

Leah just nodded. She'd heard Hermione make a million excuses, and she'd seen right through every one.

"Anyway, he left in a strop. Not that I really blame him. He thinks I just don't care about him," her breath hitched and she blinked back tears.

"Oh honey," Leah responded, scooting over to put an arm around her.

"I hate myself for making him feel like that," Hermione sniffed. "I- have I really been that bad? Am I a horrible friend?"

"No, Hermione, I can tell you from first hand experience that you're a wonderful friend. But your relationship with Harry, I'm not sure it was ever entirely healthy. How could it have been, given what the two of you went through together? And then he broke your heart."

Hermione opened her mouth to dispute that but she held up a hand to stop her.

"I don't blame him, he didn't even know what he was doing. But that's still what happened."

"I didn't even realize how much I missed him until I saw him today, I just packed it away in the back of my mind. But now...I can't lose him Lee, but I'm afraid it's too late."

"Well, he's here now, and he obviously wanted to see you. You can fix it."

"I haven't even told you everything yet."

"Whenever you're ready," she soothed.

"I went after him, well, after awhile, once I pulled myself together."

"Understandable," Leah nodded.

"When I got to the Auror Department, Dennis was coming down the hall and he told me that Harry and Malfoy- remember I told you about him?"

"Ferret," Leah gave her a sharp nod of confirmation.

That brought a smile to her face. "Anyway, he told me that they were going to duel and, like an idiot, I went to watch."

"Why like an idiot?"

"Because I panicked. Part of me knew Harry wasn't in danger, but the rest of me just lost it. And then he was there, holding me and hushing me and it was like I was eighteen years old again and he was my entire world."

"That must have been- jarring."

"Unbelievably so. And I couldn't help it. I just ran, and I could tell how much it hurt his feelings but I couldn't stop myself."

Leah was quiet for several minutes. "Okay, it's not ideal. But also, he has experience with you and panic attacks, he must know how vulnerable they make you, he can't really blame you for wanting to get out of there."

"He probably thinks I've turned into some kind of nutcase."

Leah laughed long and loudly at that pronouncement.

"Don't laugh at me!" Hermione shouted, which only made Leah laugh louder.

"Nobody who's ever met you would think that you are a nutcase," Leah clarified, "dedicated to your work, maybe a little bit too much, and to the detriment of your social life but not crazy."

"I'm pathetic." She pounded her head against the back of the sofa.

"Okay, well, yes, you do look a little pathetic at the moment."

"Bitch," Hermione quipped with a swat of her hand in Leah's direction who just laughed.

"But no, you're a brilliant accomplished woman who also happens to have feelings. It's nothing to be ashamed of. So, what's your plan?"

"Go talk to him, bribe him with food," Hermione explained.

"It's a good plan." Leah grasped her wrist to stop her from mussing her curls. "Hermione, you know that you can't go on like this forever, right? It's going to tear you apart."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, I support this plan to try and reconnect with him. But he's not your entire world anymore, he never really was, it just felt like it. You have a good life here, a fairly full life with a few exceptions, and he not only lives in England, but he's engaged. You need to find a way for him to be in your life, but move past him, or you need to cut him out completely, this limbo is not okay."

"I can't just stop loving him."

"No, and maybe you never will, you grew up loving him. But this is a big heart," she gently tapped Hermione's chest, "there's room for somebody else in there as well. I refuse to believe he's the only love you'll ever get."

"I hear what you're saying but…"

"I know, it'll take you awhile to accept the idea. Just keep that in mind, okay?"

"Yeah." She sat up more fully to rest her head against her friend's shoulder.

"And I'll be here for you, no matter what."

"Thank you," Hermione responded, bumping her cheek against Leah's shoulder. Not that she'd had any doubt about her friend's loyalty, but it was nice to hear.

"I mean I love you and all that," Leah continued, her tone lighter, "but mostly I just want to know if somebody's eyes can actually be that green in real life, and I've been waiting like three years to find out."

Hermione giggled, though it was subdued. "Just you wait. You'll be half-way in love with him too before he even gets all the way in the door."

 **Author's Note: Thanks to weestarmeggie for the beta read. And to all of y'all for reading, this is different than anything I've ever posted before in a few ways so it's especially reassuring and I love hearing from you all!**


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

The next morning Hermione sent Harry a memo asking him to lunch, and then she spent the next hour shuffling papers around her desk and pretending she wasn't worried about his reaction. She told herself that she was prepared for his rejection, that she'd given him every reason to be angry and cautious, or that he might already have plans. She told herself that if he told her 'no' that she would simply try again another time.

That didn't stop her from collapsing in relief against the back of her chair when his reply came 88 minutes later accepting her invitation.

She left for lunch early- a rarity- after releasing her hair from it's usual practical updo. It wasn't even vanity, at least she didn't think so, as she still wasn't overly fond of her curls. It was simply that this was how Harry knew her, and she hoped he'd see some of the Hermione he still recognized in her hair.

He was still in a meeting when she arrived in the Auror Department, which she had halfway expected. She hovered around the reception desk nervously hoping that nobody would question her but knowing that it was only a matter of time before somebody did, especially after her outburst the afternoon before. It would be couched in the form of concern but gossip was as rampant here as it was in any other workplace.

However, the restless few minutes proved themselves to be totally worth it when a group of people spilled out into the corridor and she immediately recognized Harry amongst them. She had the pleasure of watching him unnoticed and seeing how he was treated by the other aurors. The level of reverence he was granted in Britain had been somewhat disturbing to behold, not that she didn't think he was worthy, what he'd accomplished before he'd even turned eighteen was stunning- and she would know, she'd been there.

But the fact was that following the war so many people had continued to see him as the Boy-Who-Lived, a baby who had survived a tragedy like he was some mythical figure. They largely ignored the man he had become- or at least how hard he'd struggled to become that man.

She stood back and watched him interact with his American peers, as well as Malfoy, which was its own kind of mental gymnastics- not that she couldn't accept his presence, but it was weird to see him and Harry as colleagues. She smiled to herself at the respect with which Harry was treated. She'd kept up with Harry's career. She knew he deserved it. But this was her first time viewing it up close.

The group finally dispersed and he looked around expectantly- maybe even hopefully- until his eyes landed on her and she was certain her heart stopped as his face lit up. He started to walk towards her but stopped in his tracks.

"Hey."

"Harry." She had to stop herself from doing something unseemly and embarrassing like running and throwing herself into his arms. Instead, she walked at a moderate pace. And threw herself into his arms.

He didn't hesitate, his arms wrapped around her waist as hers went around his neck. She noticed immediately that she hadn't been mistaken, he was broader and more solid than he'd been the last time she'd embraced him.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I've been terrible," she breathed against his chest.

"You could never be terrible, Hermione Granger."

And the absurd, pathetic relief she felt over that simple statement convinced Hermione that Leah was right. She was going to have to find a way to move past her feelings for this wizard and love him in an appropriate manner, as one friend to another, or it would crush her. It had been crushing her, she'd just been avoiding the feeling.

"Are you okay, after yesterday?" He whispered, the question was clearly meant for her ears only.

She tilted her chin so that she could speak directly into his ear as well. "I'm fine, it was just a shock, you know?"

"Is that why you ran?"

She just nodded and prayed to every deity she'd ever heard of that he would leave it at that; he did, and didn't say anything else but squeezed her tighter.

Finally they pulled apart and she smiled at him sheepishly. "Welcome to America."

"You're not an American," he quipped in return. "But I suppose I can accept your welcome as an honorary citizen. You've been here long enough."

And with that awkwardness once again descended between them.

Hermione cleared her throat. "Was there anything in particular you wanted for lunch, I have a few ideas but if you have any requests…"

"I bow to your superior knowledge," he replied with something like an actual little bow.

Hermione swallowed at the sight. In the years she hadn't been paying attention Harry had apparently become...something like smooth. It suited him and she hated it; she'd missed so much. She took a deep breath and forced her thoughts back to the present.

"Umm, there's a deli down the street that I like, it's nothing fancy but they have fantastic sandwiches and that always used to be your prefered lunch food."

"It still is, now more than ever, actually. A heavy meal in the middle of the day isn't really conducive to my line of work."

"That makes sense," she nodded. "Well, I'm ready if you are."

He grinned and gestured in front of him. "Lead the way my lady."

She almost grabbed his hand to pull him along with her as she had so many times through the halls of Hogwarts or forests all over Britain, but she stopped herself just in time.

She felt his eyes on her the entire way down in the elevator and by the time they reached the ground floor she could no longer ignore it. "What?" She asked as they stepped out into the late summer sun.

"Your hair."

"What about it?" She raised a hand to pat it self-consciously.

"It got really long, I've never seen it like that before."

"Oh, yes, I grew it out, the extra weight keeps it from being quite so wild and I usually wear it up at work and I have more options with it long. Honestly, I wish I'd thought of that when I was a teenager."

"I like it," he nudged her gently with his elbow, "but then I've always liked your hair."

"Harry," she scoffed.

"I did, really. I know people used to tease you about it but it was just so 'Hermione.' Plus it made you easy to spot." He cringed. "That came out wrong, I just meant that it was unique to you."

She just nodded but was internally absurdly pleased by that simple sentiment.

"Is it lighter than it used to be? I don't remember it being so...golden."

She looked at him out of the corner of her eyes, this seemed like an odd conversation, but he was just strolling along, his hands clasped behind his back. "Yeah, a little, it's just natural highlights that have come out in it because there's more sun here, and I'm outside more often than I ever was at home. I didn't color it or anything."

"Well, it's pretty."

She looked at anything but him. "Thank you," she cleared her throat. "When did you become so observant, Harry Potter?" She was going for a light, joking tone but she was almost certain she didn't succeed.

"I'm an auror, it comes with the territory."

"I suppose that's true, and you're an excellent auror at that, your reputation precedes you."

"That's nice to hear," he shrugged off her compliment. "Anyway, noticing things about a beautiful woman has never been difficult, it just embarrassed me too much as a teenager to say anything about it."

"Oh," she gasped to herself, unable to think of a response to that. He had just called her beautiful, hadn't he? But luckily for her they'd reached the deli. "Well let me tell you a little about this place before we go in."

He chuckled. "By all means, Professor Granger, educate me."

* * *

Harry would never have admitted it but there had only been two things in his life that made him feel safe, happy, and at home: the first was Hermione Granger and the second was the Burrow. Hogwarts had been his first home but he had been through too much there over the years for that feeling to linger into adulthood.

Looking back, he knew that Hermione had been essential to him in so many ways and he never wanted to let that go. Which is why he had sought her out to get that back. But he was still unprepared for the depth of feeling that wracked his body when she finally, voluntarily embraced him for the first time in years. It knocked him off kilter and left him feeling a little stupid.

Then again, this was Hermione, and a large part of him was perfectly content not to question it, to simply stride along beside her, let her lead him wherever she thought was best, and listen to her go on about whatever struck her interest at the moment- at this moment it was telling him about the history of the deli she'd decided to take him to for lunch. He had absolutely not realized he'd missed that particular habit which had felt like such an annoyance during their Hogwarts years.

But he knew now that he'd never again begrudge her the way she loved to share her knowledge. Especially after witnessing the bright smile she gave him when she realized he was actually listening to her little lecture. It made him want to hug her again, he'd missed the way Hermione embraced him with her entire being.

When they were finally seated with their meals- Hermione had recommended the corned beef on rye, and she had not led him wrong- instead of concentrating on his food he found himself studying his best friend again. Both times he'd seen her the day before he'd been too upset to really look at her. But the fact was that Hermione Granger had grown into a startlingly beautiful woman.

He wasn't blind, she'd been a pretty girl, but she'd lacked a certain confidence which would have highlighted that fact, you had to look deep. Now she seemed to carry herself with an effortless grace that was so striking he'd been having a hard time keeping his eyes off of her since he'd spotted her waiting for him. Which is why he'd been confused when she seemed so flustered by his relatively mild compliments. Surely she heard that kind of thing, and much more, all the time? More than one man on the street had done a double take at the sight of her.

"Harry?" She startled him out of his reverie.

"Yes?"

"Do I have food on my face or something?" She wiped her cheeks with her napkin with comic exaggeration.

"No," he laughed. "Of course not, why?"

"You're staring. Lost in thought?" She asked with a soft smile.

"Oh," he scrambled for an excuse. "I guess I'm just taking it in, being here with you, you know? I mean, how many meals have we shared? And on one hand it feels like just yesterday since we did this all the time, and on the other is feels like it's been an eternity."

"Right," she said, looking down and fiddling with the edge of her plate.

He almost said something to make her feel better, but he was still more than a little angry with her, and while he knew it was probably very small of him, he wanted her to feel guilty. There was a long, uncomfortable silence before she looked up, a false smile on her face.

"So you must be excited to be here!"

"I'm sorry?" He asked, not understanding her meaning.

"Here, in New York, I mean there must be something really interesting about this assignment to have drawn you away from Ginny for six months."

Harry's stomach lurched uncomfortably at that pronouncement.

He bought time by popping a crisp into his mouth. "Kingsley is trying to forge a better relationship with the Americans," he explained when he'd finished chewing. "I'm sure you know that blood purity issues are a non-starter for them and we're still less than a decade out from a blood war. Malfoy and I-"

"It's good optics, I get it," she nodded, then cringed. "The-wizard-who-won or whatever they're calling you these days paired up with a former Death Eater sends the message that attitudes are actually changing in Britain."

He nodded.

"It's just, that just doesn't sound like you, basically doing PR for the Ministry." She paused, biting her lip. "But I suppose things are different, now that Kingsley is in charge."

"That's true." It was. Kingsley's government had made a lot of reforms and Harry believed in what they were trying to do. But as Malfoy, of all people, had pointed out just the day before, Harry still despised utilizing his fame and he never would have accepted this assignment for that reason alone. He eyed the way she was still worrying his lip, clearly trying to piece together this puzzle, it was such a familiar gesture the next words came pouring out of his mouth. "There's also the small matter of a best friend who I missed and who just so happens to live here."

Her eyes flew to his and for a moment he looked almost alarmed but then her features softened. "Oh, well I'm honored. And I'm happy you're here, have I said that yet?"

Harry's stomach lurched again. It felt like he'd gone from telling too little truth, to too much. He plastered a smile on his face.

"And I'm excited to explore the city. I think it's important to take the opportunity to travel and experience new things while I'm young, before I have a family. Ginny and I have both been lucky enough to have the chance to do that through our chosen careers." Harry wondered why that sounded like a canned speech even as the words were coming out of his mouth.

Hermione regarded him evenly and he felt as if she could see right through him. Five years ago she wouldn't have hesitated to call him on his lie- though even he couldn't quite pinpoint what that lie was. Today she planted her own obviously false smile on her face.

"Well I'd be happy to show you around." She bit her lip. "Though I'm not sure you'd enjoy a lot of the things I'd have to show you."

And all of a sudden Harry was annoyed. "I've grown up Hermione, I like museums, I even like libraries. You'd think the many books I've sent you over the years from my travels might have tipped you off to that. Though, if you could direct me to some good jogging trails, maybe even a place where I could join in a pick-up football game I would certainly appreciate that too."

"I'm sorry," she slumped in her seat. "It's like you said, sometimes it feels like just yesterday that we were doing our homework together in the common room, and sometimes it feels like an entire lifetime ago. I'm still trying to get it all straight in my head."

"Well," he sighed, "I guess we're going to have to be patient with each other."

She nodded and he imagined that he looked just about as miserable as she did in that moment.

"We should get back to work."

"Yeah," she agreed.

He stood and offered her his arm. She gave him a sad smile but took it and they set off together, which at least felt like one step in the right direction.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

It was in the middle of the afternoon that Friday when his phone buzzed, but Harry was just reading through some files, bringing himself up to date on an investigation the department was in the middle of conducting. And considering that his caller ID informed him that it was Ginny, and that he'd only spoken to her briefly a couple of times since he'd arrived in the U.S., he answered it.

"Hey Gin."

"Hey."

"How are you? I feel like we keep missing each other."

He heard her chuckle.

"We do. I'm sorry, I know it's still pretty early there but I thought I'd see if you were free."

"Just reading some reports, so I have a few minutes. How's training?"

"The usual with the Harpies, but that's actually why I called," there was a clear note of excitement in her voice.

"Why's that?"

"A representative from the English National Team was a practice today they want me to start training with them!"

"Oh wow, Gin, that's fantastic, congratulations!"

"Thanks, I'm really excited."

"You should be! And you've worked really hard, you've earned that spot."

"Well I don't have it yet, this is on a trial basis, I don't know if I'll make the roster, even as an alternate, but this is the first step."

"I have faith in you," he said, hoping the smile in his voice translated across the phone. "The Harpies don't mind you taking the time away?"

"No not at all. Actually, I thought Gwenog might kiss me when she heard the news." She giggled and his smile broadened. "This is great publicity for us, you know it's still rare for witches to be selected. And anyway, it's not full time. It will be more travel but you're there so I suppose it doesn't matter."

He heard this bitterness in her tone and suppressed a sigh. This was a constant source of tension in their relationship. It frustrated him that she traveled for her career but resented him for doing the same; while she didn't understand why he couldn't be an auror like her brother and just do domestic policing, why he took tough international assignments. They'd nearly broken up around the time Hermione had moved to New York as a result of their first argument over the issue.

He had been in auror training for just over a year- with another year to go- and he already knew that the traditional iteration of the job wasn't for him: issuing citations for improper wand usage and arresting people for petty crimes after the experience of defeating a dark lord just sounded ridiculous. He'd joined the corps because he wanted to make a difference, and that hadn't felt like making a difference. And then there had been the small matter of the fact that he was terrible at taking orders- which he really should have realized about himself much sooner.

So, he'd tested for and been accepted into the hit-wizard program with Magical Interpol which would include months of training on the continent, and the Ministry had been more than thrilled to send him for such specialized training. In hindsight, he probably should have at least told Ginny about it before he applied, but he wasn't used to consulting with people before he made decisions except for maybe Ron and Hermione, but that was different.

He'd been rather appalled when he realized that Ginny had basically expected him to use his fame to leverage himself into what amounted to a cushy desk job with an impressive title. She had argued that he'd already done enough for their world, that he shouldn't be putting himself in more danger, and he'd asked her if she knew him at all. The arrival of a letter from Hermione practically gushing with praise, telling him how proud she was of him for challenging himself and not taking the easy road had not helped matters one bit.

But when he'd mentioned that perhaps they should consider the months he'd be away as a break from their relationship, she'd cried and told him that she didn't want that at all. She apologized, and said that she realized that he deserved a partner who supported his career goals, especially given how supportive he'd been of her dream to play professional quidditch in the face of her mother's very vocal disapproval. Harry thought then that she had started to understand. And, well, he had never been very good at handling crying women.

So, he'd gone off to training with Ginny still holding the title of his girlfriend and when he came home they pretended it had never happened. Except in moments like these. He refused to rise to the bait.

"How _are_ things there?" She eventually asked.

"Good," he sank into his chair. "I'm settling well. Everybody has been really welcoming and I like the city so far. It feels big, even compared to London. It's nice, being anonymous."

She laughed. "You could never be anonymous."

"What do you mean?"

"Just that you're Harry Potter, when you walk into a room people notice."

That had him sitting up straight again. "Maybe back home, but that's only because of all that Boy-Who-Lived, Golden Trio nonsense. It's not real, you know know that."

He heard a little huff from the other end of the line. "You underestimate yourself, you always have."

Harry shifted in his chair, trying to come up with a response, he didn't like it when she said things like that. It didn't happen often, but it was a little too reminiscent of the little girl who'd idolized him, and that made him highly uncomfortable, so he changed the subject. "The Malfoys are holding a party tonight to give us an opportunity to socialize with the department outside of work, meet their spouses, that kind of thing."

"That sounds nice."

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure the new and improved Malfoy plan for world domination includes an obscene amount of booze and canapes." He heard a snort from across the office. "Hermione will be there," he blurted.

There was a long pause. "So you've seen her?"

"Well, yeah, we work in the same building, I wasn't just going to ignore her."

"Why not?" She asked, her voice deceptively calm. "She's been ignoring us."

"She's still my best friend, Ginny. I missed her and I wanted to see her. And I'm sure she had her reasons."

"Oh yeah, and what were they?"

Harry didn't say anything, because wasn't that a damn good question? And one he hadn't gotten the answer to. But he was beginning to wonder if he had any right to demand that Hermione explain herself. In so many ways it felt like out of all the people on the planet the very last person who _owed_ him anything was Hermione Granger, and he was just happy to have her back. But then again, what if she pulled another disappearing act? He had no idea how to prevent that.

"Did you even ask?" Ginny continued to demand.

"She's entitled to her privacy," he said but he sounded sheepish and unconvincing even to his own ears.

"Right."

There was another uncomfortable pause.

"Okay, well, Mum just tried to floo so I should go see what she wants and you should probably get back to work."

It was the worst excuse Harry had ever heard, Ginny avoided her mother's floo calls like the plague. He let her get away with it though, he didn't have the energy for a fight and this was really not the place for it anyway.

"Oh, okay then," he agreed, trying to sound upbeat.

"I'll talk to you later, have fun tonight."

"Thanks, I love you."

"Love you too." She said the words, but there was absolutely no emotion in her voice.

The line went dead and he pulled the mobile away from his face and just stared at it.

"Trouble in paradise?" Malfoy drawled.

Harry nearly dropped his phone, he'd momentarily forgotten the other man was in the room. He turned to face him, Malfoy hadn't even looked up from his work.

"I don't know," Harry confessed.

Malfoy scribbled a few things in the margins of a report and then finally looked up and regarded Harry evenly, leaning back in his chair like he hadn't a care in the world. Harry felt himself growing irritated; the other wizard practically had a mastery in the art.

"Potter, if you don't know the answer to that question, then there is."

"I think she's still upset that I took this assignment."

"Really," he arched one brow, "because it didn't sound like things got frosty until you mentioned Granger."

Harry just shrugged.

"In my experience it's not wise to just bring up other witches out of the blue. If you do, your witch starts wondering if she has something to worry about."

"Really?" Harry snorted. "In your experience? Malfoy, I've seen you blatantly flirt with other women when your wife was standing right beside you."

"Well that's because Astoria is awesome. She understands it's just in my nature to flirt and that I would never cheat on her. Actually, I think she kind of enjoys watching me fluster other women knowing I'm coming home with her," he mused with a typical smirk.

"Merlin," Harry muttered. "There really is no end to your ego."

"But," Malfoy continued as if he hadn't been interrupted, "for witches in general it's true. And haven't you noticed that your fiancée is sensitive on the subject of Granger?" There was a pause. "Merlin why am I having to explain this to you? You and the Weaslette have been together forever, I think you were engaged before Astoria and I even started dating. And why are you still engaged, for that matter?"

"You think we should break up?" He blurted out of alarm. Because, despite himself, Malfoy actually knew him quite well. When he'd first become an auror many people had refused to work with Malfoy, Harry had been one of the few exceptions, so they'd been paired up fairly often, especially because Malfoy had always been given the least-desirable, most-dangerous assignments, whereas Harry had regularly volunteered for them. And then he'd realized that Malfoy was actually a good partner: smart, efficient, and- when it was called for- ruthless.

They were not friends. They weren't. But he trusted the man.

Malfoy's features fell into an expression of almost comical surprise. "Wow. Okay, that is _not_ what I just said, but it's very interesting that's how you would interpret it."

Harry felt his neck grow hot and he removed his perfectly clean glasses and began to polish the lenses so that he had something to do with his hands. "What did you mean then?"

"Why aren't you married yet?"

"We're getting married next June." It was an automatic response and he knew it was the wrong thing to say when he saw Malfoy's exaggerated eye roll.

"That's not what I asked. Merlin, man, are you you purposefully misunderstanding me?"

Harry ground his teeth. "No, perhaps you're just not being specific enough."

"You've been engaged for how long?" Malfoy asked very slowly, like he was addressing a toddler.

"Three years."

"And you were a couple for how long before that?"

"Two years, plus that time during sixth year."

There was a beat of heavy silence. They both knew why the relationship had been interrupted. But even though they'd come a long way over the years, they had never, ever discussed that terrible night when Malfoy had let Death Eaters into Hogwarts and Dumbledore had died, and Harry very much doubted they ever would.

Malfoy cleared his throat. "Well, that's my point. Astoria and I have only been together a little over three years and we've already been married a year and a half. What's the hold-up with you two?"

"The timing just hasn't been right. And it takes a long time to plan a wedding."

"What do you mean, 'the timing hasn't been right?' And I know that you being you, there are certain expectations for any social event you might host, but you cannot tell me that your wedding would take longer to plan than a Malfoy wedding. Mother and Astoria don't even get along and they pulled it off."

Harry felt himself growing defensive but he couldn't figure out why. "We just haven't been able to find a date where one of us wasn't busy. We both have very demanding careers."

"I work the same job as you do Potter, most of the same assignments even. And Astoria was in the middle of her Charms mastery while she was planning our wedding."

"What's your point Malfoy!" He snapped.

He shook his head. "Look, I have a- grudging- respect for you. But most importantly my wife is fond of you in a way that sometimes makes me question her otherwise immaculate tastes. I just don't want to see you make a mistake you can't take back."

Well wasn't that just a bludger to the chest? "Are you telling me you think marrying Ginny is a mistake? Is this because she's a Weasley?"

"Don't insult me," he hissed, eyes narrowed, "I've never been anything but polite to your witch, at least since Hogwarts. And I'm not saying it's a mistake, I was just saying you should think about it because that conversation you just had with her was painful to listen to."

Harry opened his mouth but Malfoy interrupted. "I'm done with this conversation." There were a few beats of silence. "But Potter, my plan for world domination absolutely does not involve canapes."

Harry bit back a laugh and turned back to his work, but his gut was roiling.

Later that evening Harry was one of the first to arrive at the Malfoys suite for the party, considering that he was staying in a room just a few floors down. He and Malfoy had spent the afternoon pretending that they hadn't had a heart to heart like a couple of witches about the state of his relationship. But that didn't mean it had ever left his mind.

On one hand, Malfoy had a point. But on the other it had been Ginny and only Ginny since he was sixteen years old, that meant something, didn't it? It was probably just that, from the outside looking in, Malfoy couldn't really understand. The Weasleys were family, he belonged with them.

He heard Hermione before he saw her, he would have known her voice anywhere. He looked up to see her strolling into the room, led by Astoria, her arm linked with another witch's who strangely reminded him of Luna Lovegood, though they really didn't look very much alike aside from both having long blonde hair. She just had a calm aura about her that was very reminiscent of his old friend.

Given their body language he could immediately tell that she and Hermione were close, which warmed his heart. Looking back on it, he was fairly certain she'd been starved of female companionship at Hogwarts. She'd been so wrapped up in his problems, she'd had little time for anything else. And while she and Ginny had been friends, the fact of the matter was that Ginny was almost two years younger than Hermione and he could now see that theirs had been much more like a mentor/mentee relationship than an equal friendship; and, of course, her roommates had never been any match for her.

But it wasn't his desire to watch her interact with her friend that had him frozen in place, it was all the skin she had on display. She wasn't dressed obscenely by any means. In fact, she looked elegant in a deep purple dress which was tied around the neck, displaying her back. It hugged her curves but it wasn't too tight- as if she was begging for attention- and fell to just above her knees. He'd simply never seen her like this before. Between the old-fashioned nature of fashion in magical Britain, and the fact that the climate in Scotland where they'd spent most of their time together was fairly unforgiving, he'd never seen her dressed so scantily.

"Gods man, shut your mouth before she sees you!" Somebody hissed into his ear. "It's like you've never seen a woman before."

He turned to look at the other wizard he'd been having a drink with before Hermione arrived. Malfoy's eyes went wide when he met his gaze.

"Oh shite," he muttered.

"What?"

Malfoy just shook his head.

"What!" He slammed his glass down on the table beside him.

Malfoy didn't flinch, just stared at him until he met his eyes again. "Harry, trust me, this is something you're going to have to figure out for yourself."

The use of his first name, which he'd only heard Malfoy utter perhaps a handful of times before- at least three of those instances had been to get his attention to warn him that they were about to be ambushed- brought him up short and kept him from making further demands.

Instead, his eyes drifted back to Hermione and he ignored the sigh he heard from beside him.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Hermione was surprised to hear that she had a visitor waiting in the reception area of her department. Anybody who would normally visit her at work was a friend whom she'd already approved, or somebody who worked in the building and didn't need clearance.

And when she spotted Astoria Malfoy she was doubly surprised.

"Astoria, hello!" She called.

The other woman's head shot up and she smiled. "I hope I'm not bothering you."

"Of course not, come on back," Hermione waved her through.

Hermione noticed the way the taller witch looked around with clear interest as she led them towards her office. When they reached it, instead of rounding her desk and sitting behind it she placed herself in one of the two chairs meant for visitors, motioning for Astoria to take a seat next to her.

Due to her unexpected appearance, Hermione had been counting on Astoria to start the conversation, certain she had a specific purpose. However, the other witch appeared nervous, just fiddling with the straps of her handbag and Hermione took pity on her. "So, to what do I owe the pleasure?" Hermione asked after a few moments of silence.

"Thanks for seeing me, especially when I just dropped by unannounced."

"Of course, it's no trouble. What can I do for you?" Hermione answered.

Astoria, finally seemed to regain her bearings; looking up, squaring her shoulders and meeting Hermione's eyes. "Well, first of all, I wanted to invite you to a party Draco and I are holding Friday night. It's meant as sort of a get-to-know-you do with the auror corps."

Hermione hesitated. She wasn't strictly opposed to the idea, much of her work focused on creating equipment for law enforcement, which meant that she often worked with and socialized with aurors. But she also didn't want to accept an invitation made only out of obligation.

"I'm not an auror," she prevaricated.

"No, but you seemed pretty friendly with them and-" Astoria bit her lip and leaned towards Hermione. "Honestly, I'd consider it a favor. I'm not my mother-in-law, these things don't exactly come naturally to me, and if you were there it would be one more person I already knew, somebody for me to actually talk to."

Hermione just stared at her and then she started to giggle at the woman's utterly artless attempt at manipulation. "Well, now I know why you weren't sorted into Slytherin with your sister, that wasn't subtle at all."

Astoria flushed and looked away.

Hermione immediately felt guilty over her mirth and her own predictably obvious reaction. "I'm sorry," she said, "I shouldn't laugh, your straightforwardness is actually really refreshing. But just to be clear, would you like me to come or do you just feel obligated to invite me because of Harry? Because you needn't."

Astoria still wouldn't look at her but Hermione saw her lips twitch. "And if I had any doubts, now I'd know why you're a Gryffindor." She finally looked up. "I'd really like for you to come, but I do have an ulterior motive for being here."

Hermione sat back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest, intrigued. "Alright, hit me with it."

"Draco travels often, but he's never been stationed away for this long before. So, I was anxious to come along. I told myself it would be an adventure." She grimaced and seemed to consider her next words before covering her face with one hand in apparent embarrassment. "There's no point in lying to you. I haven't even been here a week and I'm already bored out of my mind," she confessed in the rush of one breath.

"And you're looking for a solution?"

When Astoria laughed self-consciously Hermione joined in.

"While there are many things to do around here," Hermione gathered herself to respond, "even when unemployed, I can also understand the sentiment. But I don't understand what this has to do with me?"

"Well, according to Harry, you've lived here for years, so you know the lay of the land. And you also know me, even if it's only a little. I just thought you might have some recommendations for things I could do to occupy my time, and I guess I'm taking advantage of this opportunity to pick your brain."

Hermione considered this. "May I ask what you do at home?"

"Charity work," she answered immediately, with a self-deprecating laugh, but then she took a breath. "Also, I have my Charms mastery and I do a great deal of private research, but I just don't have access to the same resources here that I do at home to continue that in the same capacity."

Hermione felt her eyes go wide in surprise. A mastery was impressive for anybody, but for a pure blooded witch like Astoria who had no need to work for a living, it was especially remarkable.

"Well I could make you a list, I'm very good at lists."

Astoria smiled. "I remember that, you were an even more organized taskmaster than Professor McGonagall."

Their eyes met and they shared a laugh.

"However, I kind of want to scoop you up for myself," Hermione continued.

"Pardon me?"

"A charms mistress who- unless I'm very much reading you wrong- has no interest in climbing the ladder but is simply interested in the cerebral aspects of the work, and actually maybe making a difference? You're basically a dream come true."

An expression flashed across the other woman's face in that moment- one that resembled a child with her hand caught in the cookie jar.

Once more, Hermione considered the situation. "It was Harry's idea for you to come and ask me about this, wasn't it? He probably even suggested I could give you a job," she eventually concluded.

"I...maybe."

"You really could have just asked."

Astoria regained her composure quickly, sitting up with perfect posture. "I appreciated Harry's suggestion, but just as you didn't want to be invited to a party out of obligation, I certainly didn't want to be offered a job out of one."

Hermione let out a startled laugh. "But surely you know that Harry would never have suggested such a thing unless he thought you were worthy."

"Him, but not you," Astoria countered.

"Point taken," Hermione conceded. "However, Harry has always had a knack for making brilliant, intuitive leaps. If I asked him why he thought you would be a good fit down here I'm sure he would say something utterly ineloquent like: 'Astoria's smart, you're smart, it just makes sense.'" She rolled her eyes. "But his instincts usually have a good basis in fact."

"Draco's basically said as much." The other woman immediately colored and looked at her lap. "I really can't say more than that."

"It's okay," Hermione soothed, "I understand, and I'm not going to accuse your husband of breaching confidentiality, commenting on your partner's general nature really doesn't qualify anyway."

"Thank you," she answered quietly.

"Merlin but they've treated Malfoy like shit at home, haven't they?"

Sometimes she was ashamed of the way she'd essentially fled Britain, there was still a lot of work to do in building an equitable government and she'd walked away from that.

The younger witch just shrugged but was obviously not prepared to comment on this thought. "I'd be happy for anything you have for me to do, I really am bored," Astoria responded instead.

Hermione decided not to press the issue. "Well, we're not hiring at the moment and my budget is stretched to the max, so all I can offer you is an internship, especially as you'll only be here for six months anyway. But if you're willing to subject yourself to a full background check and a secrecy vow I could give you access to most of our research and you can play around all that you like," she finished with a wink.

Astoria smiled. "That's fine," she added, apparently in a rush to assure her, "I'd be happy to," she practically bounced in her seat.

Hermione laughed, remembering why she'd felt a kindred spirit in such an otherwise poised and collected individual- somebody she usually would have considered to be her total opposite. "Let me give you a tour before you make a decision."

"You'll come to the party no matter what though, right?"

Hermione laughed again and rounded the desk to take the other woman's arm.

"I hope we can be friends again, no matter what. And I'm honestly chomping at the bit to see your husband and my best friend mingle together in polite company."

Astoria patted her hand. "My experience with aurors keeps me from terming them 'polite company.'"

"Touché," Hermione laughed.

"Also," Astoria added, "and if you ever tell them I said this I'll deny it…"

"The aurors, oh I have a millions secrets from those bullheaded idiots."

Astoria laughed. "I meant Harry and Draco specifically."

"Oh, well keeping a secret from them would be my _specific_ pleasure," Hermione's lips curled in amusement as she led Astoria out of her office.

* * *

"You look hot," Leah greeted Hermione when she spotted her outside of the hotel where the Malfoys were apparently staying, and therefore holding their party, that Friday night. Astoria had encouraged Hermione to bring a friend to the party, Hermione had decided that she didn't care if the other woman had only been being polite, she needed back-up.

Hermione just shrugged. She'd been to some Malfoy hosted events after the war. And while she already knew the younger couple were quite different from their older counterparts, and she hadn't thought cocktail attire was necessary, she had still expected this gathering to be more formal than a typical auror get together. For instance, she doubted there would be a keg. So, she had dressed appropriately.

"Dressed up for somebody?" Leah continued, her voice mocking but with a hint of warning, and linking her arm with Hermione's.

"I just wanted to look nice," Hermione demurred.

"Uh-huh," her friend responded. She let the issue go as they entered the lobby, but tugged on their linked arms in a manner Hermione knew was meant to be simultaneously playful and reassuring.

They rode up to the penthouse in silence but Leah gave her a reassuring squeeze as they stepped off of the elevator.

"Okay?" She wondered.

Hermione nodded.

Astoria opened the door to the suite after they knocked, her face carefully blank before it broke into a smile when she spotted who was standing outside.

"Hi," she breathed, looking some combination of anxious, excited, and defeated. Hermione couldn't help but wonder if her assertion about not being the hostess her mother-in-law was, was even more true than she'd originally believed, but her greeting seemed genuine. "I'm so glad you're here!"

She drew Hermione into a hug and Hermione felt like she could feel the sincerity in the other woman's embrace. She knew that she could trust the other woman's academic credentials, she'd already checked on those. But she was still deciding if she simply trusted her.

She realized that she very much wanted to.

She carefully pulled away and introduced Astoria to Leah. The two other witches greeted each other cheerfully and when they were through, Hermione linked arms with Leah again while Astoria preceded them into the suite.

"Sweet merciful Merlin," Leah muttered.

Hermione couldn't help but agree. Their surroundings couldn't be described as anything other than opulent. The suite boasted an almost incomparable view of the Manhattan skyline.

However, one glance at her friend led her to realize that she was mistaken, Leah's exclamation wasn't a result of their surroundings. Her gaze had settled on two wizards who were rather conspicuously standing in a group which consisted only of the two of them: Harry and Malfoy. She also knew that she'd described Harry, and that Leah had seen enough pictures over the years to have easily identified him on sight.

"Leah," she hissed.

"Do all English wizards look like that? Because if you've been holding out on me, I'll have your head," Leah replied, making no attempt to keep quiet.

Hermione felt herself flush while Astoria giggled, all the time acting as the consummate hostess and leading them to an empty seating area.

They were almost immediately followed by said wizards- though Hermione hoped that Malfoy was simply seeking out his wife and that Harry was following him, as they should have been far enough away not to hear Leah's proclamation.

Harry stepped forward to embrace her immediately and she made an effort not to embarrass herself by clinging to him too desperately. It was just that she'd _missed_ him, but she'd done that to herself, and he was not hers to hold onto.

She stepped back.

"Harry Potter, this is my friend Leah McAlister, Leah, this is Harry," she gestured between them.

"The famous Harry Potter," Leah greeted, holding out her hand.

She actually saw the light fade from Harry's eyes but he gamely held out his own hand- albeit reluctantly. Luckily Leah noticed it too, she gasped.

"I'm sorry! I didn't mean that the way that it sounded. I just meant famous to me, because of how much Hermione has talked about you, not because of- oh I'm making a mess of this- but all that other terrible stuff!"

Hermione wanted to melt into the floor but that seemed to do the trick for Harry who was immediately gracious and personable once more. "I'm afraid to say I haven't heard as much about you as Hermione's seen fit to tell you about me."

There was a beat of uncomfortable silence before Malfoy cleared his throat.

"Potter."

"Oh, right."

"Draco Malfoy, may I introduce my friend Hermione Granger, Hermione, this is...Malfoy."

Hermione frowned and eyed the blond's outstretched hand warily. Surely Harry wouldn't lead her into a trap, no matter how angry he was with her, but what were they playing at? She looked back and forth between them, especially concerned when she saw that even Astoria seemed hesitant.

"We've known each other since we were eleven Malfoy," she eventually stated, and she kept her own hands carefully at her sides.

"Right, I know," he looked around, obviously gauging their fellow party-goers interest in this conversation, but they mainy just seemed interested in getting drunk on the free booze. "I was actually hoping we could pretend that never happened."

"No." It was an automatic response.

The light in his eyes dimmed and she heard Harry hissing her name from beside her.

She huffed out a breath. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean that the way it sounded. It's just that those who forget history are doomed to repeat it," she said. "We've been through so much, it would be a disservice to us both to pretend like we haven't. So, while I can't forget our history, and I truly believe it would be foolish and ultimately futile to try and do so, I would be happy to start over," she extended her own hand in Malfoy's direction and she saw understanding dawning in his eyes.

He nodded and accepted her hand. "Draco, please, my friends call me Draco."

"Harry calls you Malfoy."

"Harry isn't a pretty witch," he winked at her.

She couldn't help it- out of amusement or, just utter weirdness over the situation- she laughed.

He soon joined her but he didn't let go of her hand. "Too much, too soon?" He wondered.

"A little," she admitted, "kind of like entering the Twilight Zone." His baffled look only had her chuckling again. "Let me go so that I can get a drink and sit down, and I'll explain the reference."

His eyes went wide and he looked down to where he was still clasping her hand. "My apologies Granger."

Harry cleared his throat and placed an arm around her shoulders before leaning in and quietly humming the Twilight Zone theme song into her ear. His breath tickled pleasantly against her cheek and she struggled not to show the effect it had on her.

As inconspicuously as possible with Harry so near, Hermione let out a long breath. She knew that he didn't actually have any idea what he was doing, but that didn't really make things any better. No, his sweet, innocent affection was going to make this harder than ever.

 **Author's Note: Thank you for your patience, and thank you Weestarmeggie for the last minute read!**


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

The Malfoys sat with them for a few minutes before departing to continue playing host and hostess. Harry remained seated next to Hermione and eyed the other woman who had become his best friend's best friend. Leah regarded him in return, her gaze was not unfriendly, but it was… calculating and Harry wondered what Hermione had told her about him to make her look like that.

"Have you been telling tales on me, Mione?"

"Huh?"

He leaned in and said in a stage whisper: "Leah's looking at me like she knows a secret."

He meant it in jest but was treated to the sight of Hermione turning almost tomato red as she squirmed underneath the arm he had draped across her shoulders.

"Oh Merlin!" He exclaimed, "I was kidding, but now I'm rethinking because of how many embarrassing things you know about me!"

He'd really just wanted to make her laugh and wasn't sure how he felt about the hysterical half-giggle, half-sob which came out of her mouth.

"Well, Hermione and Luna say you're really something on a broomstick, if something of a maniac- at least according to Hermione- Luna thinks you're as graceful as a thestral, which is a real compliment coming from her," Leah's words interrupted his thoughts.

Hermione now had both hands covering her face, and he was doubly intrigued, but Hermione looked so absolutely mortified that he decided not to press the issue and just responded to Leah's not-so-subtle segue.

"Well I do love to- wait, you know Luna?"

Leah pointed to herself. "Magizoologist, we're not a very big community. And considering that I know Hermione…"

"She's never said anything."

"Knowing Luna, it would never have occurred to her," Leah chuckled.

"True," responded Harry and Hermione, almost in tandem.

"Well," Harry began, "that doesn't sound so bad, if you know Hermione at all you know how she feels about brooms. Also, I am the Chosen One so she really couldn't have said anything too terrible about me."

Hermione leaned forward, picked up a magazine from the coffee table, and before he could squirm away from her whacked him on the top of the head with it.

"Still making that terrible joke I see."

"Still hitting me for it, I see," he mocked in return, rubbing his head dramatically.

She elbowed him in the ribs and he could only laugh.

"You know, I was going to ask if you'd always been so violent but I know you have been."

"Shut up, I am not!" She protested.

"Why don't we ask Malfoy about that, shall we?" He smirked.

"Wait, what?" Interrupted Leah, "What does that mean?"

Hermione groaned and Harry felt his face split into a grin. "Oh Leah, let me tell you some stories about our sweet little Hermione here. Has she ever told you about a woman named Rita Skeeter?"

Hours later the party was winding down. Leah had left with an auror Hermione told him with a roll of her eyes that she had an on-again, off-again thing with. He and Hermione were still on the same couch and had a steady stream of people come by to speak with them for most of the party- apparently their history was well enough known within the MACUSA community, that their colleagues were very curious to see them together, at least most of them attempted to be subtle though- but they were finally alone. Hermione was slumped against his side.

"Hey," he nudged her before she could fall asleep on him. "Are you ready to go home?" It was honestly the last thing he wanted, he'd been hoping to get some time to talk with her alone tonight.

"Oh, um, not really Harry."

"Are you sure?" He smiled as she blinked blearily at him.

She shrugged. "You're warm and comfortable, I sort of got lulled into a trance. But I don't want to go home, I feel like I've barely seen you tonight. I mean I know I've been sitting here with you this whole time but-"

"No, I know exactly what you mean."

"Are you tired?" She asked him in return.

"No, I was actually wondering if you would like to go for a swim?"

"A swim?"

"Well, it's pretty late, so there's not a lot open. A bar isn't exactly good for having a conversation, and I don't know about you but I've had enough to drink. I'd ask you to my room but… honestly there's not really much there. I just thought a swim sounded nice. It's one of my favorite things to do now that I have a pool at home and the hotel pool should be empty at this hour."

Harry had not been a strong swimmer as a child. It's not as if the Dursleys had gotten him lessons, in fact Dudley hadn't even had lessons, that would have been far too much like exercise. But after the war when he'd discovered he had an ancestral home with a beautiful, magically heated pool, it had become one of his favorite hobbies and an excellent way to stay in shape. The pool was a major factor in his decision to take Astoria's recommendation and book this hotel even though it cost substantially more than his housing stipend.

"Okay," she rolled her shoulders. "You just surprised me. I don't have a suit though."

"Are you a witch or what?"

She froze, obviously taken aback, then narrowed her eyes at him but he saw the corner of her lips begin to curve upward.

"Point taken. I'll just go transfigure my clothes and then we can go?"

"Are you asking permission or…"

"Merlin, have you always been this much of a smart arse?"

"I once told Professor Snape that he didn't need to call me 'sir.'"

She just stared at him until she burst out laughing. "I forgot about that," she choked out even as she attempted to muffle her giggles with her hand. "I was actually worried about your safety when you said that! If looks could kill you would have been dead right there."

She kissed him on the cheek, he froze and he saw her eyes go wide and he realized that she hadn't registered what she had done, until after she'd done it. He had forgotten how casual Hermione could be with her affection. But he squeezed her to him to let her know that he wasn't upset by her actions and then let her go so that she could stand.

She went to the bathroom and when she emerged her purple dress was a loose purple cover-up and her heels a casual pair of flip-flops. They said good-bye to their hosts and then she followed him down to his room so that he could change as well. Then they made their way to the pool.

When Hermione lifted her cover-up over her head Harry froze. And he'd thought she had a lot of skin on display earlier. He didn't know what he'd expected. Hermione was a muggle born witch and a modern woman, of course she wouldn't wear the kind of swimming suits the women in magical Britain favored. The kind of things which wouldn't have been out of place in the muggle world in the 1920s.

But he had not been prepared for the sight of his best friend in a bikini. It was a red and Harry couldn't stop himself from wondering if that had been the color of her underwear before she'd transfigured it. He quickly looked away and tried to banish that thought as he removed his own shirt, but when he looked up she was the one staring...at his crotch.

He cleared his throat and her head shot up. "You got a tattoo."

He looked down at himself and sure enough, his shorts had ridden low enough that the tip of his tattoo was visible peeking out of the waistband at his right hip. Very few people knew about it, he had always intended to keep it private. That was the reason he'd had it placed where he had and why he'd had it done in the muggle world. But it seemed like fate that Hermione had noticed it, and he was struck that the thought that it was something he wanted to share with her.

He carefully peeled the waistband of his trunks down to reveal the small rendition of the symbol of the Deathly Hallows he'd had permanently inked on his skin.

"Oh!" She gasped. "May I-" she reached for him, but before she could touch him she snatched her hand back as if it had been burned. She looked up at him, eyes wide. "I'm sorry, that would have been inappropriate. I was just curious, and surprised."

He cleared his throat and shuffled his feet. "It's okay. I know it probably seems odd."

"No!" She exclaimed. "No, it makes perfect sense."

"It does?"

"It does," she nodded. "It's a reminder to do what's right rather than what's easy, just like you did when you chose to keep pursuing the horcruxes instead of the hallows. Any other wizard would have been in a race with Voldemort for the death stick."

She licked her lips and took a deep, shuddering breath. He could only stare at her.

"And it's also a symbol of everything you've accomplished. Like your parents gravestone says: 'The last enemy to be destroyed is death.' You did that Harry," her voice was so earnest and she reached out and took his hand. "And not because of any of this Master of Death nonsense, but because you chose to give your own life for those that you loved. You weren't like Voldemort, choosing to cling to life no matter the price, and yet you came back to us anyway. Death can't touch you now, not really, when it's your time you'll welcome him like an old friend. That kind of strength...I just think it's utterly appropriate that you have a mark of that on your body. A mark that you chose."

She reached up and traced his infamous, though thankfully now faded lightning bolt scar. Then she let out a sob and threw herself at him. He put his arms around her and tucked her head under his chin, letting out a shuddering breath of his own.

"I think you're giving me more credit than I deserve," he finally choked out.

"Shut up," she ordered.

Of course she had understood, she had articulated it even better than he could have. Had understood his intentions better than he himself had, though he really did think she was giving him too much credit.

Ginny thought he'd had it done in commemoration of his victory, and he hadn't had it in him to correct such a gross misconception. She and the entire Weasley family saw that day very differently than he did. He'd actually almost become physically ill when Bill's first child had been born on the second anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts and they'd named her 'Victoire.' Why would they want a daily reminder of such a terrible event?

Harry and Hermione stood there for a long time, clinging to each other, her tears running down his bare chest until Harry started to become _very_ aware that there was a beautiful, half-naked woman wrapped around him.

He wiped her cheeks with the pad of his thumb and smiled for her, she just seemed to manage one in return. "Come on, these weren't the kind of waterworks I was hoping for when I invited you to go for a swim," he said, releasing her and diving straight into the pool. He made several laps before coming back up and looking around for her.

She was in the pool now too, treading water in the deep end. He swam towards her.

She gave him a smile, though it was still tremulous. "That was a terrible joke Harry. Have you always been this lame?"

"Most people find me very impressive, thank you very much," he answered, splashing some water in her direction.

She screeched and sputtered and splashed him back and they began a splash fight. Hermione was a strong swimmer but Harry had the advantage of both size and reach and was able to corner her in the shallow end, and then he pounced. He snagged her around the waist, slung her over his shoulder and tossed her several feet away.

"Watch your back Harry Potter," she said when she popped back up, wagging a finger in his direction. "I will get you back for that," she threatened, but the effect was rather ruined by the fact that she was grinning.

Harry allowed himself to feel satisfied that he'd cheered her up so easily. "Ohhh, I'm absolutely terrified of the tiny witch," he taunted.

"You should be, after all the stories you told Leah you obviously haven't forgotten what I'm capable of."

They grinned at each other and Harry found himself reflecting on how effortless is was to be around her. That hadn't always been the case, they'd had some truly awkward times as teenagers, but after the war it was like they'd both let their walls crumble around each other and now it almost felt as if no time had passed since then; which was a thought that sobered him.

"Hermione, I need to say something and then we never have to talk about this again, but I need to get it out."

Her face fell and she swam closer to him. "Okay, you can say anything to me Harry."

"I was talking to Ginny earlier and mentioned that I'd seen you. She asked me if you'd explained why you just disappeared from our lives," she opened her mouth and he held up his hands to stop her. "You can tell me of course, if you want to to talk about it, but I'm not going to attempt to force the issue, it's your business. It occurs to me that you might not even know yourself. We all handled the years after the war differently, and sometimes that kind of trauma- you just do things that don't make much sense. But here's the thing."

She nodded.

"You can't do it again, I wouldn't be able to handle it. So just give me your word, because if I have your word, I know you'll keep it."

She held his gaze despite the tears forming in her eyes. "You have my word, you're never getting rid of me again Harry Potter. Come hell or high water or, well, another dark lord, I'm right here with you."

"Thank you," he swallowed thickly. "I needed to hear that." He took a breath and made a conscious effort to shake off the heavy feeling in his chest. "So," he smiled, "when are you going to show me around this new city of yours?"

She blinked and he just knew that she was seeing straight through him, but she graciously let it go. "I'm not busy this weekend, how about we get started then?"

"That sounds perfect."

 **Author's Note:** **Thanks to Weestarmeggie for beta reading and to all of you for reading!**


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

"Wait, help me understand this," Harry said, popping the rest of his hotdog into his mouth. "You're trying to figure out a way to channel a person's core magic, like it's a wand core?"

"Yes, essentially." Hermione nodded. "I just don't see why you should have to rely on the sheer power of your magic to cast wandlessely, we all did it as children long before we were at our full magical 's significant literature to suggest that wands were actually designed to limit and control us. Or at least wandlore laws were written that way. Before those, wands were considered to be something more like akin to a scope on a rifle; an option which was very useful in some situations, but not strictly necessary. I understand where the term 'focus' came from, now."

He appeared lost in thought and she knew that he didn't fully understand everything that she was attempting to explain to him, but she didn't mind. Harry wasn't stupid, but he also wasn't a scholar; academics simply weren't what drove him. He needed to be out there, doing something, making a visible difference. But despite that, he was standing here really listening to her, and enthusiastically asking questions. He was truly intrigued by the job that meant so much to her, and that alone was everything in her mind.

"It's ambitious," she demurred when he remained silent. "It may come to nothing."

"Hermione," he stated emphatically, reaching over and covering her hand with his on the rail of the ferry. "It's _amazing._ It's revolutionary."

"It's a side project," she tucked the hair that had been pulled out of her chignon by the wind whipping around them, behind her ear, embarrassed by his effusive praise. "I can't use too many resources on it for that reason, but the sheer scope of the nature of it is pretty exciting. If we could get in touch with our magic in that way… for instance, it could completely change the way that we view squibs. They don't have enough magic to channel through a wand, but that doesn't mean that they don't have any, or that they couldn't use it in certain ways. In fact, it has the potential to completely change the way we think about magical beings as a whole." She shrugged.

"Hermione," he said as he reached out again to touch her arm, his voice low, despite the fact that they'd cast a charm to ensure that nobody took any notice of their conversation. "Even if it turns out to be wrong, it's a brilliant idea, and definitely something worth exploring. You should be proud of yourself and your ingenuity. But in my experience your theories seem to work out. And more often than not they save my arse." He bumped her shoulder with his and she smiled at him and ducked her head.

"You gave me the idea," she admitted.

"Me?"

"Well you, and what you were able to do, despite that thing in your head," she clarified.

He looked alarmed.

She held up her hands. "I'll never, ever tell anybody what actually happened or what it was, I swear. Much less write it down. I would never expose you in that way. But it still seemed important."

He let out a long breath and nodded. "Okay, I can understand that."

"Those of us who knew you also knew that you were powerful, even from the very beginning of your time at Hogwarts," she continued to explain. "You had a large dose of luck on your side, but you have always been an impressive wizard, and I don't just mean magically," she shot him a smile. "Though I am primarily referring to your magical power at the moment."

He nodded again.

"For years you still managed to find your magic and wield it impressively, despite that terrible dark thing in your head. I thought maybe, after it was all over, that we were missing something about that fact. You're powerful, Harry, and as I said impressive in many ways. But as inhibited as you were, it didn't make sense to me that you could use your magic as effectively as you did if the prevailing theories were really correct, at least."

"I've never considered that," he admitted.

"I just thought maybe that's what you'd been doing all along to overcome it, bypassing your wand, drawing from your core. I know how it handicapped you when your wand was broken but- especially given the circumstances- that easily could have been psychosomatic, or just plain exhaustion."

He snorted. "Definitely a possibility. Gods but that was a shite time."

She smiled at him sadly but continued her thought. "It might be silly. But I thought it was worth looking into. There's so little research on wand making, and on top a few suspicious texts about how some wand makers might have suppressed the knowledge about how our magic works to forward their craft, especially within Europe, I thought it should be explored. Because it is an undisputed fact that some cultures don't use wands as all."

He smiled at her. "That brain of yours is really something."

"Thank you," she dipped her head and then raised it again, along with one of her hands which she used to touch the ridiculous headpiece he was wearing.

They were on a ferry headed towards the Statue of Liberty. Harry had bought them each a tacky styrofoam headpiece shaped like the crown which Lady Liberty wore, insisting that if they were going to be tourists for the day, then they would do it properly. She had thought she'd feel silly, but she really just felt young and carefree; and Harry looked hilarious with his hair sticking up behind the spikes of the styrofoam tiara, which made any embarrassment she might have otherwise felt totally worth it.

In fact, she'd called him adorable when he'd placed it on his head. He had pretended to pout and demanded that she come up with a more manly adjective. She'd refused.

Harry had been asking her about her work since he'd arrived at her apartment to pick her up for the day. She hadn't thought he'd be interested in the details. But apparently one of his American counterparts had told him that she'd led the team responsible for developing a new kind of shielding device that was part shield and part coat and which was made with a potion infused thread. She'd gotten the idea from the Weasley twins, but it had taken her years to come up with something which would actually shield a person from any but the most minor curses.

Harry had been effusive in his praise and after that he had wanted to know _everything_. It made sense that he was curious, he had always admired things that were practically applicable. It was just that in their past, her knowledge had generally been much more theoretical and so his interest had been limited. It stung a little.

They stood close to each other, now quiet and still as they crossed the harbor, and they continued to be silent as they departed the ferry. As they strode around Liberty Island she started to wonder if she was being unfair. He'd forgiven her a lot, and could she really blame him for being a more discerning and curious adult than he'd been as a child? Or for being primarily concerned by his very survival?

So, she asked him more about his work and how he enjoyed it.

"I love the travel." He answered immediately, grinning at her.

"I didn't realize you wanted to travel," she responded. "And I think after you discovered Potter House, part of me thought you'd never leave it behind. You were so happy there. Content in a way that I'd never seen from you before."

"Me either," he laughed, "until I started doing it. I had so little experience of traveling, other than our little hide and seek act during the war, which was fairly miserable, wouldn't you say?"

It had been. Still, Hermione again felt stung by his comments- which was absurd. Still, she had been largely responsible for the so-called 'hide and seek.'

"And I think after being so repressed by Riddle my whole life," he continued, "I yearned for something bigger. And discovering Potter House actually helped, because I had a place to come home to just like my ancestors had for generations. It grounded me and made me feel free to explore, you know?"

Hermione smiled at him, recalling the sheer joy he'd expressed to her after discovering his ancestral home. It was such a distinct and irreplaceable tie to his history. She had been thrilled for him when she'd heard of it. It had taken him months of negotiations with the Goblins before Harry had been allowed access to the old Potter vaults after the war and their break in for him to gain access to his full inheritance. She'd done her best to aid him, given that she'd been as involved in the robbery as he had been, but it turned out that her presence in his meetings with the Horde had done more harm that good, so she'd backed off.

Harry had eventually prevailed and she'd felt unspeakably proud of him for fighting for his heritage and winning, and he'd anxiously asked for her help in auditing his vaults. She had felt privileged.

To her eternal shame she'd seen Potter House only once, and just briefly, on one of her few trips back to Britain since her move as he hadn't sought it out until after she'd left for New York. She'd adored the Georgian home, large but not ostentatious, and somehow perfectly fitting for Harry. She fully expected to watch him build a family there.

"Is that all?" She wondered, shaking herself out of her thoughts, "all you like about your job, I mean."

"Well, the things to do with the travel, and the parts of the job that have allowed me to experiment with my magic. And, of course, it feels good to be making a difference."

"It does sound very interesting," she conceded, "I worry for you, but I understand."

"I'm careful."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Don't lie to me Harry Potter," she snapped, jabbing a finger at him.

He rolled his eyes, but when he ducked his head in response she got the distinct feeling that her concern actually pleased him.

"I'm as careful as I can be, I promise. I don't have a death wish."

She allowed that. For a moment- and because he was kind enough not to call her out on her own failings- she let herself believe that he was as careful as he could possibly be when he was on the job.

But she knew, deep down, that it was nonsense; even while he probably believed it was true. His hero complex was truly epic.

"And the dark wizard hunting?" She wondered.

He glanced at her, a question in his eyes.

"I'm just wondering if you feel, I don't know, fulfilled? I know there was some talk of you being an auror in school, but I always thought that you might be done after Voldemort. Though I understood why you weren't. But does it bring you a sense of satisfaction?"

He let out a long breath. "It's exciting right now. I feel like I'm doing good without also feeling like it's my destiny. It's just something I've chosen."

She let out a sigh of relief at this confirmation that he hadn't felt harangued into his current profession. "I get it."

"But I doubt I want to do it forever," he conceded. "I don't know _what_ I want to do."

"Well, you have time to figure it out. You're really good at this auror thing, and that leaves you with a whole host of skills to move onto something else, whatever you choose." She smiled at him, although a big part of her wanted to scream at him to run far, far away from such a dangerous profession, it wasn't her place and it wasn't fair of her to ask it of him.

Not that he was in anyway incapable of doing his job. She just thought that he just deserved some peace, and selfishly, she wanted to feel that he was safe. "It's nice to see you with your colleagues," she said instead; her worries were not his burden to bear.

"Yeah?"

"I always knew you were talented Harry, but I was used to being in the midst of you and all your drama." She looked up and smirked, trying to make sure he knew that she was teasing. "It's different now though, I feel a kind of motherly pride it you."

"Motherly?" He looked absolutely incredulous.

Hermione felt her cheeks heat. "Not actually motherly, that would be weird, but you know what I mean, right? I was always kind of bossy at Hogwarts, like I thought I should be in charge. As in, I kind of mothered you."

Harry's face fell. "I should apologize for that, for leaving you to figure everything out."

"Right, because the only thing you had on your plate was defeating a dark lord." She rolled her eyes.

They just stared at each other and then began to laugh.

"Maybe we can agree that we were both in way over our heads and did the best that we could?" Hermione suggested.

"That sounds good, right." Harry leaned forward and she knew better than to so much as budge, and then with a heartbreaking reticiense that spoke of a childhood of neglect- something she'd surely reinforced by being so distant with him- he leaned in further and kissed her cheek.

After that they traveled to Ellis Island. Hermione had been there on a couple of occasions, and found the site where millions of immigrants had been processed and then entered the United States over the course of decades absolutely fascinating. But it seemed different this time, as if she had a point to prove, though she couldn't have said what it was.

"This might be insensitive to ask," he asked, hovering at her side as she scrutinized one of the the original immigrant log books in its glass case. "But this place seems particularly upsetting to you. Is there a reason for that?"

She turned to smile at him over her shoulder. "Not upsetting. Well, perhaps on some level," she conceded, then sighed. "But I just admire their bravery. Coming here, hoping for a better life, not knowing if they'd make it. How amazing is that? But also, so sad, for those who were turned away."

"Isn't that what you did?"

"What?" She asked, startled.

"Took a chance on a whole new life, a whole new way of life?" He gently cupped her shoulders, entreating her to look into his eyes which were as earnest as she'd ever seen them.

She chuckled, attempting to play it off. "I assure you, I had all my papers in order. I had money in the bank. I didn't have any doubt that they'd let me in the country. I even had a job all lined up."

"That's not what I was talking about," he said, carefully tightening his grip on her shoulders. "I meant when you went to Hogwarts."

She felt her eyes go wide. She'd never made that connection.

"It was easy for me, to throw myself into the magical world," he continued, "anything would have been better than there- than the Dursleys. But for you…"

She swallowed convulsively, resisted the urge to pull away from him physically. And that was on top of the battle within her heart where one part wanted to retreat from him emotionally, and the other refused. She wanted to run away, but she'd promised that she wouldn't do that, and she also felt a sudden need to confess her own insecurities which she'd always hidden from her magical friends.

She peered up at him. "You're giving me too much credit, Harry. It wasn't brave, it was desperation. The muggle world was no place for me either, no matter how much my parents loved me. I felt like a cuckoo in the nest."

"Oh Hermione," he breathed draping his arm across her shoulders and drawing her against his side. "It's terrible what they did to us. What was kept from us for so long."

"I agree."

"I'm not avoiding it," he said, clearly uncomfortable, "but I don't want to ruin this beautiful day with such a depressing topic. Could we save finishing this discussion for another time? I really would like to talk about this with you, as a member of the Wizengamot. I'd like to try and make things better for the muggleborn and muggle-raised."

She couldn't deny him such an obviously heartfelt request, and she longed for a nice day with him as well. She tried not to think about how much it warmed her heart that he wanted her opinion. "I'd like that Harry."

"Still," he grinned at her, "it's no wonder you were sorted into Gryffindor," he said, almost seamlessly slipping back into their prior conversation, absent the heaviest elements.

"I wanted Gryffindor," she smiled back at him. "It just sounded so glorious."

"I felt the same way," he muttered.

"And I wanted to seperate myself from just being the 'smart girl' you know?" She snorted. "I was almost a hatstall. It really wanted to put me into Ravenclaw."

His face relaxed and he chuckled, though it sounded a little forced. "Well thank the gods it didn't. I would definitely be dead if it had."

"And I'd have missed out on being your friend," she added, she meant it as a joke but the mere thought weighed heavily on her heart.

He just stood there blinking at her with those ridiculous green eyes. "You're right, that would have been a true tragedy. And I don't mean the me dying thing, that I'm totally used to, but not having you in my life? That I can't abide."

"Harry," she choked.

"Come on," he hugged her around the waist and then draped one arm across her shoulders again. "Lets go explore some more of this wonderful, terrible place."


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

"You're ridiculously fit, you know that?" Harry admitted as he watched his best friend duck and dodge around the dueling arena. He should probably have been less surprised by Hermione's skill. They'd gone jogging together over the weekend and she'd kept up with him fairly easily. An impressive feat as he was in very good shape, and doubly so considering their height difference.

Then again, he had always foolishly underestimated her.

For instance, when she'd first suggested it, he had never really thought she had it in her to set up a defense group inside of Hogwarts, under Umbridge's- and all of their other professors'- noses. He had been dead wrong about that, and that fact had saved his life, an example of one of at least a dozen times she'd saved his life over the years. And just like on most of those occasions, he had humored her when he'd agreed to let her guide him on a run. He had reconciled himself to having to slow down to her pace and come back for a real workout afterwards. She'd spent a good portion of their jog glancing at him out of the corner of her eyes and smirking and he knew that she knew what he had been thinking.

And when Hermione had requested to get in some dueling practice with him he'd hesitated long enough that she had noticed. But this time she didn't keep quiet, in fact she'd gone full on 'Hermione in S.P.E.W. mode' on him. Strangely, watching her chew him out for being narrow minded and pigheaded and believing that she was less capable than his colleagues because she wasn't an auror, had been heartwarming. Nostalgic. But he didn't remember that part of her personality making him feel so happy in the past, in fact he recalled feeling distinctly annoyed by her not-so- rare lectures at Hogwarts.

Still, she made her point and it was obvious that she wasn't prepared to back down. So he had agreed to put in some time in the dueling arena with her. But he had secretly been not at all sure that he could fight her like he would a fellow auror. True, he'd dueled her many times when they were kids. But he'd become considerably more lethal since then. And while it was common for people to be injured even during friendly duels, and he knew she wouldn't take it personally, he wasn't sure he could handle hurting her, even a little bit.

Her skill ended up astounding him. He realized almost immediately that he wasn't the only one who had been training. But he should have known that she had been practicing. She had never been content to rest on her laurels, and it had always been obvious that her defensive skills were her weak spot, so it made sense that she would have been anxious to improve them.

"Well thank you." She gloated, Harry wondered if she knew how self-satisfied she looked.

Pride comes before the fall.

Harry hit her with a destabilization hex which was far more powerful than a 'petrificus totalus' and he would have felt utterly triumphant if the devastated look on her face hadn't momentarily caused his heart to fall into his stomach. He gathered his wits for a moment, breathing in and out, finding his center as he'd- finally- been taught as a proper occlumens; then he walked up to her and stood over her smirking, allowing himself to enjoy his victory for a moment.

She appeared to be attempting to eviscerate him with her eyes; he was happy to see the fire still in them. It made him happy, that look had been his saving grace more times than he could count. He released her and held out a hand for her. She just glared at it and scrambled to her feet on her own.

"This is what I do for a living Hermione, did you really expect to win?" She huffed and he chuckled, pulling her into a hug. "You're like a pouting little girl right now." He decided not to tell her that it was actually adorable. If he was brave enough, one day he might even ask her how she managed to keep her hair out of her face, because it appeared to be putting up a mighty fight to escape its prison, piled on top her her head. That day would probably never come.

He expected some form of retaliation for that comment, not for her to look up at him, an even more exaggerated pout on her face.

"That's not going to work on me," he insisted. "I know your competitive side wants to try and redeem yourself, but we need to get cleaned up, the match starts in just over an hour."

They were attending a charity quodpot match between a team of aurors and a team of healers from St. Elizabeth's which was meant to benefit the hospital in question. Harry had been hearing about this event almost non-stop since he'd arrived in America. The aurors were a little obsessed as they felt their pride was on the line; they couldn't even contemplate the possibility of being bested in a sport by a bunch of healers. And despite how much he feared the way his work environment would suffer if they did lose, Harry had very much been looking forward to it, never having had the opportunity to attend a quodpot match before.

"Fine, I'll get you back later," she stuck her tongue out at him.

He just rolled his eyes and slung an arm across her shoulders until they reached the locker rooms where they separated into the two gender-divided areas. He was showered and dressed before she was, but not by much. Hermione always had been efficient in everything that she did.

She emerged wearing a strapless red dress which showed off her sun kissed shoulders, the skirt dancing prettily around her knees. The wedge type sandals (he listened when the witches in his life spoke, he really did) she brought the top of her head even with his nose, when usually he could easily tuck her under his chin when they hugged.

"You look really nice," he said, looking down at his own jeans. "Am I under-dressed?"

"Not at all, most of the guys will be dressed similarly. This is a casual dress," she gestured to herself, "we girls just like to look a little special at these things, different than we do at work. And actually this is really comfortable," she swished her skirt and smiled at him, then offered him her arm. They had agreed that she would be apparating them to the pitch outside of the city as he'd never been there, he nodded and took the proffered arm.

When they arrived at their destination Harry reared back in impressed surprise at the sight before him. Unlike the pitch at Hogwarts, and most of the quidditch pitches he'd ever seen which were basically just the pitch itself surrounded by raised stands, this resembled a smallish muggle football stadium.

"Nice isn't it?" She asked him with a little smile.

"Yes," he agreed, as they made their way towards the entrance.

They handed their tickets in at the gate and then Hermione took his hand and easily led him to the private box they'd paid extra to share with a group of other aurors and their families.

"Been here a few times?" He chuckled as he trailed along behind her.

She shrugged. "They hold these things pretty regularly. Not just quodpot, but American muggle sports, and also our football. There's an entire inner-MACUSA league for Quodpot, sometimes they play for charity and sometimes just for fun. I come to support my friends, it's a nice way to socialize with coworkers outside of work."

He just nodded, smiling to himself. He liked witnessing and becoming immersed in the life his best friend had carved out for herself on this continent. And he also wished their Ministry had such a thing. Then again, MACUSA was larger than the British magical government by almost a factor of ten, so perhaps it was logistically impossible. He decided to ask Hermione her thoughts on the subject later, when they were alone. "You enjoy this better than quidditch?" He teased instead.

"I don't _dislike_ quidditch," she frowned. He reached out and smoothed the crease between her brows with the pad of his thumb, she relaxed. "Sorry, I just don't understand why everybody thinks that. I'm simply not interested in sitting around discussing it, or any other sport, at least not for hours at a time. I've always enjoyed watching my friends play though, even when you do scare me to death," she shot him an unimpressed look.

"Okay, touche," he admitted. She hadn't missed a single one of his quidditch matches at Hogwarts.

At that point Astoria came practically dancing up to them. "Hello you two! How was your dueling practice?" She brushed her hand down Hermione's arm and then offered her cheek to him for a kiss. She was one of the only witches he'd ever met who could enact that maneuver without looking pretentious.

Hermione answered the question with an annoyed little sound at the back of her throat and Astoria laughed.

"He beat you then?"

"I don't want to talk about it." Hermione crossed her arms over her chest.

"He is a trained auror, and then all those other things of course," Astoria waved her hand about casually.

"Yes, I am aware," Hermione responded. "He's also possibly the most annoying wizard in creation," she griped.

"This is why I didn't want to duel you," he griped in return, half annoyed, half amused.

"Hermione," Astoria interrupted, "I've had a thought about our experiment from earlier. I think I know what went wrong and how to fix it."

"Oh?" Hermione's eyes lit up, immediately deterred from their argument.

And then they started discussing something that Harry couldn't have explained to anyone under pain of death. He was only reasonably certain they were still speaking English. He looked around but he didn't immediately see anybody with whom he wished to converse, so he just stuck to Hermione's side, his hand hovering at the small of her back.

They'd been standing there for about five minutes when an auror named Rick Andrews sidled up to them. Hermione and Astoria didn't even notice him, so involved were they in their conversation, until the other wizard stepped uncomfortably close to Hermione. Or, at least Harry thought it was too close, as he was standing right next to her and even he was uncomfortable by the wizard's proximity despite knowing for a fact that he could best the slightly older man in a fight.

Harry could admit that he already wasn't wild about the man, he had somewhat of a reputation as a womanizer which wasn't something Harry approved of, and to add to that, he had seemed to resent Harry's presence in America ever since his arrival, without bothering to get to know him. From what Harry could tell he was used to being the big man on campus- he actually reminded Harry of Malfoy in his younger years- and didn't appreciate not getting the attention he was used to due to Harry's mere presence.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, ladies," he said, not acknowledging Harry in any way, "but I wanted to let you know, a group of us are going out dancing after this and the two of you are welcome to join," he turned to look at Astoria, "your husband is, of course, welcome," he added in a tone of voice that suggested that Malfoy was anything but welcome.

Harry was irritated on Astoria's behalf but before he could say anything the other wizard turned back to Hermione and smiled at her hopefully.

Astoria caught his gaze and winked at him. Then her face lit up with what appeared to be genuine pleasure, but Harry knew her well enough to see the mischief in her eyes. "Oh that sounds like fun!" She turned and met his eyes again, "the _two_ of you should definitely consider coming."

"That could be fun," he agreed automatically. He never had been and doubted he would ever be a talented dancer, but he'd learned that 'going dancing' had a lot more to do with melting into a crowd and moving your body in anyway that felt enjoyable and made you look confident in yourself than any technical skill; and he wanted to stick it to this arsehole.

Hermione turned, grinning at him. "You? Voluntarily dance?"

"You still have a lot to learn about me Granger," he huffed playfully, fully wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her into his side, all the while holding the gaze of the wizard standing in front of his best friend.

"Hey Potter!" He heard a familiar voice call. "We need to do these poor sods a public service and start a quidditch league, this sport is positively _pedestrian_." He saw Malfoy approaching from over Andrews' shoulder. When he reached them he practically shoved their fellow auror aside to greet Hermione with a kiss to her cheek. "Good evening, you look lovely. Please tell me Potter required medical attention after your duel."

"I wish," she huffed, "he's so annoyingly quick."

"Well," Andrews interrupted, "perhaps I'll see you all later." He didn't even try to hide the fact that he was annoyed when he turned around and stalked away.

"What a tosser," Malfoy snickered.

"You couldn't have even tried to be polite?" Asked Hermione. "Is it just not in your DNA or something?"

"First of all, nice try, trying to trip me up with a muggle reference, but I know what DNA is. I assure you, everybody in my family has perfect manners, when we choose to use them. Also, _you're welcome_ for rescuing you from Andrews' disgusting attentions, and don't argue with me, I know he was making you uncomfortable. You're such a Gryffindor, your thoughts were written all over your face."

"I-" Hermione faltered, clearly torn between being grateful and admitting that he was correct.

There was a clapping of hands. "We should get some food!" Astoria said with false cheerfulness, though she did look genuinely amused.

"Of course, love. Ladies first," answered Malfoy, gesturing for the witches to precede them. They both narrowed their eyes at him but Hermione and Astoria linked arms and made their way over to the buffet. Harry watched them, hissing in surprise when the other man grabbed his arm. "You need to get yourself together Potter," Malfoy whispered harshly.

"Excuse me?" He turned to face the blond.

"The way you were just looking at Andrews? I know he's an arsehole, but let's just say that had you ever directed that look at the Dark Lord, he would have expired on the spot and saved us all a lot of trouble. That's and extreme reaction to somebody hitting on your friend. Lucky for you, Andrews is a conceited bastard and so he won't say anything, and Hermione is too blind to understand."

"Understand what?"

Malfoy sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "You aren't this stupid. And I'm not going to be the one to explain your feelings to you. But like I said, get yourself together, this internal conflict is beginning to affect your work and it's going to make you at odds with half the Auror Corps, either because they're protective of Granger or they just _want_ her. I'm the one who has to stand by your side and I have a wife to get back to every night."

Harry just stared at the other man, trying to make sense of his words. "Harry!" Hermione called from the buffet, startling him out of his reverie.

He immediately swiveled to face her. "Yes?"

"Can we share?"

"Share?"

"Like, I get a plate with a few things and then you get a few things?" She gestured to the variety of food laid out in front of her, eyes darting back and forth between the various dishes. "That way we can taste something of everything without having to get up to refill our plates once the match starts?"

He realized that, despite her tough facade, she was probably fairly magically depleted from their duel, and had also apparated them both here, and was therefore probably ravenous.

"That sounds great!" He made his way over to her and pretended he didn't hear Malfoy's quiet explicative. He would think about their conversation later, he intended to have an enjoyable evening.

It wasn't until they were in a club, Hermione positioned in front of him, her hips gyrating between his hands that his partner's words really wormed their way into his brain.

'Get yourself together.'

They weren't dancing any differently than any other couple; except for the fact that they weren't a couple, and that he wasn't available for a casual liaison. The very idea of engaging in such a thing with Hermione- even had he been single- was abhorrent to Harry.

So what was he doing?

Technically they weren't doing anything wrong. While Hermione had her shoulders firmly pressed against his chest, even in her intoxicated state she had been careful to keep their lower bodies from coming into contact.

And by dancing with her almost exclusively? At first he had told himself that he was simply keeping her safe from any other men who might have a predatory interest in her. That he wasn't loving every second of this. That he didn't want to pull her completely against him and grind himself against that delectable arse of hers which he'd been longing to touch ever since she'd transfigured that pretty red dress of hers into something shorter, tighter, and more appropriate for the club scene.

So he took the remarkably mature route of getting stupidly drunk to forget about the decision he knew he would have to make very soon. He could not continue to look at Hermione like this and stay with Ginny. But he did not stop dancing with Hermione in the meantime.

He escorted her home via cab as they'd both had too much to drink to apparate, especially with another person, and then she insisted that he stay over.

"I'm drunk, but you're drunker, Harry. I'll worry all night if you try and get home by yourself. You can sleep here." She pointed her wand at her sofa and it almost instantly turned into a comfy looking bed.

He just blinked. "That was damn impressive, Mione, especially given how much you've had to drink."

"I was determined," she kissed his cheek and turned to walk, more than a little unsteadily, back towards her bedroom.

He watched her until she was out of sight. He fell onto the transfigured sofa and was asleep before he could torture himself over the questions the night had brought.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

It took him a long time to break the surface of consciousness. Mostly because he didn't want to, his head was pounding and his mouth was dry. Sleep was much more pleasant.

But eventually the blinding light piercing through the skin of his eyelids made it impossible to resist any longer. He opened his eyes slowly, trying to figure out why his bed smelled so differently than it usually did, even as memories of the previous night began to pervade his brain.

Quodpot. Dancing. Drinking. Way too much drinking.

He chuckled very quietly to himself (his head really hurt) at those memories. Hermione was a cute drunk, and a surprisingly fun one too. As much as he loved her she was usually so regimented. He'd never seen her unfettered like that before, and he wished he remembered it better. However, even his vague memories told him that he'd been even worse off than she had been.

He turned his face into his pillow and breathed in her scent. She'd welcomed his intoxicated arse into her home and even arranged a comfortable bed for him. The least he could do in return was make them breakfast. Knowing Hermione, she didn't drink heavily often enough to keep hangover potions on hand, and he didn't know the location of the nearest apothecary, even if he had been confident of his ability to get himself there feeling the way that he did. He could, at least, make them a thoroughly unhealthy meal to mop up the leftover alcohol.

But he didn't want to get up quite yet. He listened for any sign of movement in the flat- Hermione had always been much more of a morning person that he was- but he heard nothing. So he closed his eyes, allowing himself a few more minutes to just relax and hopefully get rid of this blinding headache.

Harry tried to remember the last time he had as much fun as he'd had the night before. It had been carefree and natural, he hadn't been worried about maintaining his so-called image, or about the trustworthiness of the people around him. It had just been enjoyable, and he wanted to do it again.

He considered that further; it was definitely possible, in fact he could arrange it. Labor Day was coming up in a few weeks. MACUSA would be running on a skeleton crew, and given his visiting position he was guaranteed holidays off. Hermione was senior enough that he knew she wouldn't be required to be put on call in case of emergency either.

Maybe they could go away somewhere for the weekend. Hermione had done a lot of traveling since she'd arrived in America and knowing her, she had at least a dozen places she was itching to show him. That could be fun, to allow her to lead him around for a weekend; most women might consider that an imposition, but he knew she would relish the opportunity.

Then again, perhaps he could convince her to do something relaxing, like go lay on a beach somewhere. Or maybe they could get a group together, share a house. He'd heard good things about the Hamptons. On second thought, Hermione on a beach sounded like something he'd like to enjoy on his own.

And as that thought punctuated his consciousness he sat up so fast he actually groaned aloud at the pounding it caused in his head.

Had he just been considering taking Hermione away for the weekend? Just the two of them? Like some kind of romantic holiday?

Yes.

And more than that, he _wanted_ it badly.

Freefall, that's what it felt like, not on a broomstick, but on a roller coaster: elation with a matching dose of terror. Because unlike when he was setting his own pace on a broom, he had no control over the roller coaster. And he had no control over whatever was happening to him now.

Did he have feelings for Hermione? Well of course he did. But of the romantic sort?

He got a little thrill even consciously thinking it. And he suspected this was not a new development.

But Ginny. He felt nothing but guilt when he thought of her. Guilt that he hadn't thought of her before, and maybe a little bit of longing over what he'd believed their relationship to be, which now just felt like a dream he'd awoken from, only to realize it wasn't real.

He took his phone out of his pocket and examined the call log. He hadn't spoken to his fiancée in two days. But it wasn't as if either of them were making much of an effort. Which was actually a terrible commentary on their relationship now that he was thinking about it.

He knew he should quit this assignment, go home, and make things work with the woman he'd been in relationship with for half a decade, the one he'd made promises to, and asked to spend the rest of her life with him. It was the right thing to do.

But his heart twisted in his chest at the very idea. Because it meant that he would have to leave Hermione, probably permanently, and he would definitely have to distance himself from her emotionally. Anything less would be unfair to Ginny.

And he knew immediately that he couldn't do it. He couldn't commit himself to Ginny. Because in the end it didn't matter if he was actually in love with Hermione, he could figure that out later. But he couldn't marry a woman when he felt this strongly for another. Ginny- any woman he chose to marry- should be the most important thing in his life, and he'd demonstrated over and over that Ginny wasn't. He'd come to America against her express wishes, and he'd done so in large part because he missed Hermione.

There wasn't anything he wouldn't do for Hermione.

 _Fuck._

And the real irony was that the one thing he wanted in the world more than anything else right now was to go wake Hermione and pick her beautiful brain about this. In fact, he'd like to crawl in bed with her, pull her into his arms all warm and bleary eyed-

 _Oh fucking hell._

He had to leave right now, he couldn't see her, he was in danger of doing something very stupid if he did. These burgeoning- or perhaps just newly realized feelings- were threatening to overwhelm him. And she deserved better than that. Ginny deserved better than that. Hell, he deserved better than that.

He rose as quietly as possible in his hungover state. He considered setting Hermione's sofa to rights, but then decided she might not thank him for it later. He couldn't quite remember what it had looked like originally, and as he wasn't the one to have transfigured it in the first place a simple 'finite' wouldn't suffice. Then he searched for pen and paper to leave a note, trying to be as unobtrusive as possible as he went through her desk, he didn't want to inadvertently invade her privacy.

What he left Hermione by way of explanation felt utterly inadequate. He said simply that he had to return home for a few days to complete some business. However, he also didn't think that it would have been right to say more. The least he owed Ginny was to let her know his intentions first. That he was- all the gods help him- breaking off not just their engagement, but their entire relationship.

And Hermione would give him the benefit of the doubt that whatever he was doing was important, she had always thought the best of him, even when she'd been infuriated with him. It was something he'd spent his life trying to live up to- which was extremely telling, now that he thought about it.

He left the note on his pillow and slipped quietly out the door. Only when he was safely ensconced in a cab did he breathe a sigh of relief. No, not relief, his heart ached; both at the idea of leaving Hermione behind and of what he had to tell Ginny once he arrived back home, but of acceptance that he was doing what was right.

When he reached his hotel he bypassed his floor and went straight up to Malfoy's penthouse. He would have to let his partner know he was leaving the country, he might as well get it over with.

He was unsurprised when it was Draco and not Astoria who answered the door. They had been well trained to be suspicious, and he doubted Malfoy had been expecting visitors. And for all his faults the man was incredibly protective of his wife.

"Potter," he greeted and then he visibly hesitated and looked him up and down. "Fuck," he murmured under his breath.

"What?" Harry asked. He didn't think he looked that bad.

"Fuck" he repeated, "Just, seriously, Granger? What were you thinking?"

Harry felt his entire body go rigid and rage flooded his system. He pushed the other man into his own suite and got right in his face. "Don't you ever speak about her like that again!"

Malfoy's eyes went wide and he held up his hands. "Okay, I know Granger is a...touchy subject with you, so I'm going to let this go and keep my wand holstered, but what the hell do you think you're doing?"

"You just implied that she's not worthy of me because she's a muggleborn! I thought you were past that!"

"What? That's not what I meant at all," he spat. "And, actually, fuck you Potter, when was the last time you heard me say anything even remotely anti-muggleborn? And you can't tell me I've been anything other than totally respectful to Hermione, hell I _like_ her, and Tori thinks she practically the second coming of Merlin."

"Then why did you look so disgusted by the idea of us together?"

"Because you're engaged, Potter, to the daughter of a prominent family. And even if you weren't, I know enough about Granger to know that she's not the kind of witch who will accept being used as some one night thing and it was wrong of you to take advantage of the fact that she's clearly crazy about you."

"Take advantage of her, what are you talking about?" He squinted at the man he often trusted with his life, but was making no sense to him at the moment. "And you think she's crazy about me?"

"You slept with her when she was drunk and vulnerable. Hell, I almost feel like I need to duel you for her honor or something. Seriously, what were you thinking!"

"What, we didn't sleep together! I would never treat Hermione so callously, why would you think that?"

"You went home with her, and you show up here wearing the same clothes you had on last night. What do you expect me to think happened?"

"I slept on her couch- her transfigured couch, but the point stands! I would never treat Hermione like that! If we ever make love it will me exactly that-" he cut himself off and took a deep breath.

"Oh, so you've figured it out," Malfoy murmured, almost to himself.

Harry pretended he hadn't heard him. "I came here to tell you that I need to go home for a few days and so, I'm sorry, but I need for you to cover for me at work."

"Okay," Malfoy nodded, "I hope you're doing what I think you're doing, but I'm not asking, and I don't want you to tell me."

Despite his own grim mood Harry almost laughed. Of course Malfoy would want plausible deniability about what Harry was up to, that was exactly like him. "I just wanted you to know I'd be gone for a few days," Harry explained.

"Okay Potter, but it better only be a few days, I can't be left here, holding the bag."

Harry paused and looked the other man in the eyes, a man who'd worked hard to carve out a career for himself despite the doubts of so many back home, as well the derision of nearly the entire British auror department. "Just a few days, I swear." He turned and started to stride away before calling over his shoulder: "Give my best to your wife, tell her I fully intend to keep our lunch date, but I may need to postpone it."

"Damn straight, Potter!" Malfoy called after him, "disappointing Astoria is where I draw the bloody line!"


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Hermione woke with a smile on her face. But then the blinding headache and disorientation overcame her. It was only when she blinked her eyes open- slowly- that she remembered.

The drinking and the dancing. The way Harry had held her like she was precious, but also...desirable. And then how he'd insisted on escorting her home. After that: Harry asleep in her living room.

She wished she had some hangover potions on hand to offer him, but maybe they could make their way to the apothecary together, or even just go to breakfast. She climbed out of bed careful to keep from jostling her aching head and padded her way to her living room as quietly as possible, not wanting to wake him abruptly. But the transfigured sofa was empty and her heart crashed in her chest at the sight.

Not that she should have expected him to stick around. He had been doing her a favor, escorting her home and making sure she was safe, nothing more. That was Harry through and through.

She noticed a piece of paper on his pillow and snatched it up, reading it quickly.

He'd gone home. He was going to go all the way across the ocean back to England. On business, he said. But what kind of business popped up unexpectedly on a Saturday morning that would require him to travel all that way? Was somebody sick? Surely he would have told her that. Or maybe not, perhaps she'd forfeited the right to be informed of these things.

She wished he'd woken her up, given her more of an explanation. She wished she could have talked to him before he left, given him a proper good-bye.

She was a hypocrite.

She read the note again, desperate for any crumb of information. It wasn't simply that he was vague about his plans, it was almost...terse. Perhaps he was just stressed by whatever had called him home.

But then panic seized her. What if it was something else entirely? What if she'd done something stupid?

She didn't remember the details of last night. She'd never before allowed herself to lose control around Harry, for this very reason. She ran for her phone and hit Leah's contact. After several rings her friend answered and Hermione could tell immediately that she'd been awoken by the call.

"I think I may have done something stupid," Hermione blurted in greeting.

"Huh, what? Are you okay? What happened?"

Hermione blew out a long breath. "I'm safe, if that's what you are asking, but no I'm not _okay_ ," she answered before launching into an explanation of what she remembered of the night before: the charity match, the club, the dancing, some of the cab ride home, and then ordering Harry to stay on her sofa.

"It sounds like you had fun," Leah responded when she was through, "why are you freaking out?"

"Because when I woke up this morning Harry was gone, with just a note on his pillow."

"I'm still not understanding the problem. He probably just didn't want to wake you."

"He didn't just go back to his hotel, he's going back to England!"

"What?! I l thought he was here for six months?"

"No, not permanently, he said he had some business too complete."

"Well that is a little...odd. But it's not completely out of the realm of understanding. From what you say he's a pretty big deal in Britain, isn't it possible he was needed at the last minute?"

"Yes," Hermione breathed, trying to calm down. "Yes it's possible. But what if it's not that, what if I said or did something to drive him away!"

"Like what?"

"I don't know, tried to kiss him, told him I loved him?"

Leah sighed. "Hermione, you're not that blinkered from last night, it's just little things you can't seem to remember. I'm pretty sure you would know if you'd done something like that. And I don't think he would have stuck around even just to sleep on your couch if you'd made a move and he rejected you. Something probably really did just come up, he's as hungover as you are so rather than wake you, he left a note."

That made a remarkable amount of sense, but didn't make Hermione feel better at all. "What if it was just so traumatic that I blocked it out?!

"What?" Leah barked.

"And it would be just like Harry to stay and make sure I'm okay but then slip out to avoid embarrassing us both," Hermione said as she continued to unravel.

"Hermione, I think you're being a little hysterical."

"Maybe. Or maybe I'm being totally logical," she countered.

"Okay, take some deep breaths." Hermione could hear her friend shifting around, probably sitting up in bed and she felt a momentary pang of regret for waking her. "I'm awake now, how do you feel about breakfast?"

Hermione considered that, her pounding head and cottonmouth hitting her all over again. "Ugh," she groaned, "I can't go anywhere, I feel disgusting."

Leah chuckled on the other end of the line. "Poor baby," she cooed tauntingly, "you only have yourself to blame."

"Shut up, you're always telling me I should have more fun."

"That doesn't mean I've forfeited the right to make fun of you when you overindulge."

"I know, I know. From what I remember it was worth it though."

Leah continued to chuckle. "Okay, okay, there's no reason for us to go to brunch. I don't particularly feel like getting dressed either. How about I go get us some pastries and bring them over instead?"

"Oh," Hermione groaned, "I'd give my wand arm for a croissant right now," she said, thinking of the buttery, flakey treat which sounded like heaven at the moment.

"I can make that happen, stay in your PJs, I'll be twenty minutes at most."

"Thanks Lee."

"That's what I'm here for, hon."

She hung up, but before she could put her phone down, something occurred to her. Harry was a responsible wizard, especially when it came to his job. If he was leaving the country, he definitely would have at least informed his partner that he was doing so. Which meant that it was possible Malfoy had more information about what Harry was doing.

She rushed over to her day bag and ruffled through it, finally locating the scrap of paper where she'd scribbled the phone number for the Malfoys' hotel suite. Before she could overthink it, she dialed the number and let out a relieved sigh when it was Astoria who answered. Hermione didn't think she could tolerate Draco's particular brand of snark this morning, and for some reason she just knew that her calling to ask after Harry would absolutely bring it out of him.

"Hello," Astoria repeated her greeting while Hermione was lost in thought.

"Oh, hi, I'm sorry. Astoria, it's Hermione."

"Oh, hi! How are you feeling this morning?"

"Not great," Hermione admitted. "That's not why I'm calling, even though I do sort of blame you because we went out at your urging."

She laughed. "I'd apologize, but I'm not even a little bit sorry, I had far too much fun, and I think you did too," she trailed off, a teasing lilt to her voice. "What can I do for you though?"

"Actually, I was just wondering if you knew if your husband had heard from Harry this morning?"

"Oh, yes. He came by about an hour ago? I didn't see him, but according to Draco he's headed back home for a few days on some kind of business," Astoria explained.

"That's all he said?"

"I think so," the other woman laughed and Hermione could practically see her rolling her eyes, "you know how men are," she added.

"Right," Hermione snorted, she knew exactly what her friend meant.

There was a long pause.

"Hermione?"

"Yes?"

"What's going on? You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, but if there's something I can do to help then I'd like to..."

Hermione laughed, and even to herself it sounded bitter. "I don't know," she responded, "is there a potion or a spell, or something to rid yourself of unrequited love that you purebloods have been hoarding for yourselves and that you'd be willing to share with me?" Hermione clapped her hand over her mouth and closed her eyes in mortification as soon as the words escaped her mouth; she couldn't believe she'd just said that, perhaps she really was losing her mind. "There's no chance you could just forget I said that, is there?" She squeaked.

She heard the other witch let out a long breath. "I don't think I can forget, but we can pretend like you never did, if you'd like, I swear I won't breathe a word. Or," Astoria continued on before Hermione could say anything, "we could talk about it, and the same deal applies; I won't breathe a word."

"Are you busy today?" Hermione asked, without really considering it.

"Free as a bird."

"Leah's coming over with breakfast in a few minutes. Would you like to join us?"

"Oh, that sounds lovely."

"It's nothing fancy. Actually, Leah ordered me to stay in my pajamas."

"I think that sounds like fun," Astoria contradicted.

"You have my address?"

"I do, though I'll need to take a car since I've never been there before."

"No hurry," Hermione reassured her, "seriously Astoria, this is totally casual. You're welcome whenever you can manage to get here."

"I understand, message received, I'll pretend I'm not a Malfoy." That made Hermione laugh out loud. "I'll see you soon then."

"See you soon," Hermione agreed, still chuckling.

And, once again, before she could set her phone down, she reconsidered. Astoria had said that Harry had been by just an hour before they had spoken. Which meant that no matter how he'd chosen to travel- muggle or magical- he wouldn't have had time to arrange for transportation and leave the U.S. just yet. But should she take his note as a sign that he didn't want to speak to her, or should she try to check on him?

She remembered the months- the years- when she'd practically ignored him. She had just got him back, just begun rebuilding the trust between them. It quickly became clear to her that she couldn't stand to leave him in any doubt that she cared. If he didn't want to talk to her, he was free to ignore her call, but that didn't mean that she shouldn't make it. At least he would know that she was thinking of him, that she wanted to check on him.

She immediately scrolled for his contact information, which she made him program into her phone the minute she had learned he had a mobile.

It rang once, twice, three times.

"Hey Mione," he answered, sounding rather breathless.

"Hey," she breathed a sigh of relief just to hear his voice. "Are you okay?"

"What? Oh no, of course I am. I've just arrived at JFK. I'm sorry I left in such a hurry, but something suddenly came up."

"Okay," she answered. "I just wanted to make sure, your note wasn't very specific and I didn't know if I should be worried."

"No need to worry," he responded, but his tone sounded forced and his words stilted. "Really, just some things I need to take care of, I'll be back in just a few days. Really, you don't need to worry," he repeated.

"I get it." She didn't, but she was trying to respect his privacy and to understand that he had his reasons. "Be safe Harry." She contemplated asking him to give the Weasleys and their mutual friends her love, if he saw them, but stopped herself. It wasn't fair to put that on him. She would have to do her own work if she was going to repair the bridges she'd burned. "I'll miss you," she said instead, trying to be as honest with him as she could. "Please let me know when you get back."

"I will," he assured her, and she went to hit the button to end the call but then she heard him say, very quietly. "I'll miss you too."

She raised her phone back up to her ear. "Harry?"

"Yeah?"

"Ring me if you need anything, okay? Anything at all, I don't care what time it is," she just couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong.

"Hermione-"

"I mean it," she insisted. "I'm here for you, and I always will be. Just, don't hesitate if you need me, okay?"

There was a long pause.

"Thank you," the words came out on a long exhale, like they were a great relief. "I can't tell you how much that means to me. I'll see you soon." And then the line went dead.

 **Author's Note: I'd like to thank Weestarmeggie for beta reading this, but of course as soon as I got it back I went and changed a bunch of things and probably messed up all her work, so mistakes are mine ;) Next chapter I promise we'll see what's going on at Harry's end. Thanks for reading!**


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Astoria arrived about half an hour after Leah did. She strode in wearing a pair of linen trousers and a multi-colored silk blouse that reminded Hermione of an Expressionist painting. She looked impeccable and she could have walked into most of the finest eateries in the city without anybody blinking an eye. And yet she seemed completely at ease.

Hermione chuckled to herself that this was Astoria's concept of, in her own words, 'forgetting she was a Malfoy.'

The moment Astoria was seated in the living room she began to unload her tote bag which contained two bottles of Champagne and a jug of orange juice.

Hermione felt her eyes go wide in surprise at the sight. "Haven't we done enough drinking in the past twenty-four hours?"

"What's that they say about the hair of the dog that bit you?" Astoria laughed. "I had this drink at brunch last weekend and it was delightful. I couldn't resist sharing. It's called a mimosa which just sounds lovely without even knowing how it tastes, don't you think? Have you ever had one?"

Hermione nodded but Leah was too busy examining the Champagne to respond. "This is really fancy stuff," she noted

Astoria shrugged. "No use in being as rich as we are unless you're going to enjoy it."

Hermione laughed and went to retrieve some glasses. They poured themselves cocktails and then started eating, not bothering to move to Hermione's small dining table. Hermione tore through two croissants and then plucked a pain au chocolat out of the pastry box. Leah snorted and Hermione's head snapped up.

"What?" She asked.

Leah shook her head, "nothing it's just I've never seen you quite so unglued, even after he first arrived. You're actually eating your feelings."

Hermione glanced at the buttery, chocolatey piece of heaven in her hands, shrugged, looked back up at Leah and maintained eye contact as she started eating it, daring her to say anything else about it. The two other women burst out laughing.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Leah prompted, once they'd finally finished eating (Hemione forwent yet another pastry in favor of a cup of yogurt.)

Hermione fiddled with the stem of her wine glass- because she most certainly wasn't a Malfoy and she didn't have any Champagne flutes in her small kitchen. "Yes," she admitted, "but I don't know where to start."

"How long?" Asked Astoria quietly.

Hermione's eyes flew to hers. "I'm sorry?"

"How long have you loved him?" She clarified.

"I don't know, maybe always? But at least since fourth or fifth year."

Astoria's eyes softened in sympathy. "Really? I thought perhaps it was a new thing, at least the being 'in' love part."

Hermione shook her head. "He's pretty much always been it for me."

"That's like more than half your life. Why didn't you ever tell him?"

"A witch after my own heart," Leah crowed, holding out her glass for Astoria to tap. "I cannot tell you how many times I've asked her that same question."

Hermione brought her legs up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. "There was just so much going on when we were kids." She looked at Astoria apologetically. "Are you sure you're okay to talk about this? It's a lot to do with the war."

"I'm fine. I'd already considered that, actually. It's a sensitive subject for Draco, obviously, but I was mostly kept away from it, so don't worry about me."

Hermione took a deep breath. "How do you add to the burden of somebody you love who already has the weight of the world on his shoulders?"

"How would loving him be a burden?"

"Because-" she swallowed thickly. "I don't mean to be insensitive or sanctimonious, but neither of you can understand what it was like to be in the middle of a war like Harry and I were. There were times- sometimes months at a time, where the only thing between us and death was that I'd happened to come upon an important bit of information in my research, or he'd had a brilliant spark of insight which protected us. And that was true even before the war was active, since we were quite young, really. We didn't always get along, or understand each other, but we trusted each other completely, we had to. And he never looked at me… like that. I couldn't ruin our dynamic by telling him how I felt, there was too much on the line."

There was a long beat of silence.

"And after the war was over?" Astoria asked.

"He was with Ginny. He had been with Ginny, even if it wasn't official, since our sixth year. She's my friend, I couldn't interfere with their relationship like that. And like I said, he's never looked at me like he was interested. And they're really happy together, what right do I have to get in the middle of that?"

Astoria just stared at her and then glanced at Leah and Hermione saw some sort of unspoken communication passing between them.

"You should tell her, you know him better than I do," Leah prompted Astoria.

"Have you guys talked about this?" Hermione asked, "about me and Harry?" She clarified.

"No, not exactly," Astoria switched her gaze back to Hermione. "I think we probably just see the same things."

"What's that?"

"First of all, I have a question. Why is it that you think that Harry and Ginny are so happy together?"

Hermione shrugged. "Well they're getting married, and they've been together all this time, they must be."

"She's- they're- I'm not saying they don't love each other, but… well, lets just say that he doesn't look at her like the sun rises and sets in her eyes. Which is exactly how he looks at you."

Hermione scoffed.

"She's not wrong," Leah countered.

Hermione blinked, looking back and forth between her two friends. She had no reason to believe they would tease her about such a thing, but it was equally difficult to believe that they were serious. "The sun rises and sets in my eyes?"

Leah gave her a small smile. "He's even more obvious than you are about how he feels."

"Wait." Hermione gripped the sofa cushions, panicked, as she felt blood rush to her face. "I've been obvious? Do you think he knows?"

"I think he's the only one who doesn't know," Leah said.

"Astoria?" Hermione called.

"If there was any doubt, last night erased it," her younger friend answered.

"Oh gods!" Hermione buried her face in her hands. "How pathetic am I?"

"Hermione," Astoria called, and then there was a hand on her back, tentatively soothing her. "Nobody thinks you're pathetic. The pair of you are completely lovely, that's why I asked why you had never told him, it just seems so natural that you would be together."

"I'd almost be jealous that nobody has ever looked at me like that," said Leah, "if I wasn't so worried that you're going to get your heart broken."

"He wouldn't do that," Astoria argued.

"Maybe not intentionally, but he seems like the kind of wizard to stick by his witch no matter how he feels about another. Am I wrong?"

Hermione gasped and felt her heart constrict, because she knew Leah was correct. What she was describing was Harry all over.

"Draco thinks Harry's gone to break things off with her!" Astoria blurted.

"What?!" Hermione and Leah exclaimed in unison.

"Yeah, I mean he didn't ask him specifically if that's what he was up to, because they don't do things like that. But they also know each other pretty well so if that's what Draco thinks, then I think he's probably onto something."

"If he does, you have to tell him how you feel when he gets back," Leah interjected. "You'll never forgive yourself if you don't at least try. And then you'll know either way."

Hermione looked down at her now-empty glass, heart racing at the prospect of a single Harry.

"You're right," she eventually admitted, voice trembling with both hope and terror.

Astoria poured her another glass of Champagne. She didn't add any orange juice.

Ginny answered the door to her flat looking neither surprised nor happy to see Harry. She looked resigned; his heart sank.

"I was wondering when you'd come," she said. He just stared at her and she sighed. "I guess you'd better come in," she stepped aside to let him through the doorway.

She made no attempt to touch him, in fact she seemed to be attempting to stay out of arm's reach which was something of a relief for Harry- as he was uncertain about embracing her in his current state of mind, and kissing her would be downright wrong- but also felt bizarre.

"How are you?" He asked as they seated themselves in her living room.

Ginny scowled and shook her head. "Don't do that Harry."

"Do what?"

"Try and stall or make small talk. Just say what you came here to say."

"Okay, well," he let out a long breath. He thought he knew what he wanted to say but it seemed impossible to start. "Did you notice we haven't spoken in three days?" He finally asked her.

She shrugged, face impassive and he realised she wasn't going to make this easy for him. Not that he had expected her to, but he had been prepared for an explosion of Weasley temper, not this eerie calm.

"And that's not even all that uncommon since I left," he continued. "And when we do talk we hardly say anything."

"Yes, well you're the one who left."

"I did," he conceded. "I left even though you didn't want me to, you've never approved of my career and yet it was something I pursued anyway. That's never sat well between us."

She just shrugged again and Harry was suddenly reminded of the petulant teenager she'd once been and felt a flare of annoyance he tamped out with another deep breath.

"But there's more going on here than that and I think you know it," he added.

"Like what?" She crossed her arms over her chest.

"Neither one of us has made an effort to keep up with the other. Not just on this assignment but in the past, and when you've been away in the past too."

Ginny just sniffed.

"Beyond that, Malfoy pointed out to me that we've been engaged longer than he and Astoria have even been in a relationship. We keep pushing back the wedding, why do we keep doing that? Don't you think that means something?"

"Yes, well if Malfoy pointed it out it must be important," she snapped sarcastically.

He sighed. He was trying to be gentle with her, but he was beginning to see that that might not be possible. There was a lot more resentment between them than he'd realised, even though he'd done nothing since he boarded the plane to London than go over and over their relationship in his head trying to decide what had happened between them, and what he wanted to say to her.

"That attitude is just one of our problems. Can't you understand? Malfoy is my colleague. An important colleague at that, as he works as my partner far more often than anybody else. And Astoria is a friend, but you've hardly made any kind of effort to get to know either of them."

"You could just stay home and be partners with Ron and then we wouldn't have to associate with that family," she sneered.

Harry jumped up. "And I would be miserable!" He exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air. "Ron's good at his job, and somebody has to do it, but it's not for me. I'd be bored out of my mind. And another thing: the way you just said 'that family.' I get that you have plenty of reasons to dislike the Malfoys in general, but nobody is asking you to have tea with Lucius, and Astoria has never done anything to you except for marry into a family you don't approve of!"

"Yeah and that's plenty," she shot back.

He just stared at her, it felt like the walls he'd built in his mind to hide the things he didn't like about her were crumbling around him. Had he ever seen her clearly? "That kind of prejudice is just as ugly as any other and I don't like the way it looks on you. Seriously, how is that any different than judging a person for having muggle parents?"

She sat back in her chair, arms still crossed across her chest defensively but said nothing.

"And you know, Hermione has just as much reason to dislike and distrust Draco as you do, probably more so. But she's been nothing but polite and even friendly to him. When I asked her about it, she said that she trusted my judgment and that if I thought he was okay now, then he must be. She trusted me when my own fiancée won't." As soon as the statement left his mouth he knew it was the worst thing he could have said, on top of being unfair to Ginny- she had the right to choose to forgive a person or not on her own terms and for her own reasons.

Ginny's face clouded over as she stood and marched right over to him, pointing an accusing finger in his face. "Yes, well I never could live up to perfect Princess Hermione, could I?" She spat. "Not at Hogwarts, not during the war, not even when she just up and left; you've been pining for her for years, it's pathetic."

"This isn't about Hermione," he answered automatically but his heart stuttered as he wondered at the truth of her words.

"Isn't it?"

He took a deliberate step back. "No," he forced himself to stand firm and meet her eyes. "We disagree about major life issues and the longer we're together, the more it all seems to get worse rather than better. And the thing is we're not even working on it. We've just become two ships passing in the night, and rarely even that because we've never even lived together!"

"So you're telling me if there was no Hermione you would still be here breaking up with me?"

Harry paused a beat too long.

"That's what I thought. What happened, did she finally open her eyes and see that you're not 'just Harry' and make a move?"

If Harry had any doubts before that his relationship was over, that erased them. Perhaps he didn't understand her, but she obviously didn't know him at all. "One of the things I love most about Hermione is that she always has and always will see me as 'just Harry.' I've never had to be anything more for her. And she hasn't done anything even remotely inappropriate, I have no idea if she's even interested."

Okay, so that was a small lie, given Malfoy's observations he at least hoped that she might be. But in the end it was irrelevant. This really wasn't about Hermione, as much as she might have been a catalyst for him coming to terms with the fact that he and Ginny needed to break up. If nothing ever happened between him and his best friend, he was still convinced that he was doing the right thing now.

"But you admit that you love her," Ginny insisted.

"Of course I love her! She's my best friend. But my feelings for her are irrelevant. You and I are not good for each other Ginny. Neither of us puts the other or our relationship first, and we never really have for the entire time we've been together when you think about it. I do love you, and we've had some good times together which I've treasured, but it's not enough to spend my whole life with you."

Silence reigned between them, both of their chests heaved as they struggled to overcome their emotions and breathe, but then Ginny's face fell and she burst into tears. She covered her face with her hands and sobbed into them. For long minutes Harry just stared at her, uncertain of the course of action he should take. It seemed wrong to just stand here, to not even attempt to comfort her, but he'd just ended their relationship, he might be the last person in the world she wanted that from at the moment.

Finally, she stumbled forward and he automatically caught her in his arms. He felt her tears begin to soak through his shirt and he felt like the worst sort of man. However, he still thought he'd done the right thing.

He led them over to the sofa and let her cry herself out. She finally pulled away from him and wiped her cheeks with her hands. "Give me a few minutes," she requested, her voice thick and shaky, before standing up and heading in the direction of her bathroom.

He watched her go and only then did he fully recognize that he had been crying as well. Not as hysterically as Ginny, but definitely crying. And now that he wasn't concerned about having a sobbing woman in his arms, he realised that he too was sad, this entire situation was sad. Their relationship hadn't worked out in the end, but they had been committed to each other for a long time, it was only right that he should mourn.

Ginny returned about ten minutes later, her hair pulled back, face fresh. She sat next to him again, but this time she kept a couple of feet between them. He wrung his hands and she, once again, crossed her arms over her chest.

"I'm not sure what to say," he admitted, glancing at her out of the corner of his eyes.

She huffed. "I'm not sure we should say anything else to each other today. Just go- go back to Hermione."

Harry squeezed his eyes shut. "Please don't be like that. This isn't Hermione's fault."

"Are you honestly telling me that you don't have feelings for her? And don't try and pawn me off again with any of this 'she's my best friend' nonsense. You know what I'm asking you."

"No, I won't lie to you. I do have feelings for her. But I only now just realised it."

"But don't you see!" She jumped up but then let herself crash back down to the cushions, pointing an accusing finger in his direction. "She's always been there! I never had a chance. If she didn't exist…"

Harry's entire being recoiled at the very suggestion and he suddenly felt a lot less sympathy for the witch beside him. "If she didn't exist I would be dead and Britain would probably be ruled by Lord Voldemort, so that's kind of a moot point," he said coldly. "Maybe I should go before one of us says something we can't take back. Would you like me to go see your parents and tell them the wedding's off?" It was the very last thing he wanted to do, but it also felt like the least he owed her, even if he kind of wanted to strangle her at the moment.

"No, I'll tell them," she sniffed, pointedly looking away from him. "I appreciate you coming and telling me this in person, but maybe you should just stay away for awhile."

"Yeah," agreed Harry, swallowing thickly and standing up. He glanced down at the woman he once- until just days ago, actually- thought he was going to spend his life with. He felt like he should be able to offer her more but he didn't know what that was. "Bye Gin."

He walked to the door only to hear her running after him. He stopped but didn't turn around until he felt her hand on his shoulder, she had her arms held out for him. He took her into his and they just held each other for several long minutes.

"Bye Harry," she eventually released him. "I'd like to say that I was very gracious in this moment, and was able to tell you that I hope you can be happy." She took a deep breath. "But truthfully, the most I can offer is just to say: stay safe and I hope we can be friends one day, because I'll miss you."

"Me too." He kissed her forehead and walked out the door without another word.

 **Author's Note: Thanks to Weestarmeggie for the beta read. But truthfully I probably went and messed up all her work by changing a bunch of things after I got it back, as per usual. So, I hope this is satisfactory, thank you guys for reading!**


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Harry wasn't sure that he was of steady enough mind to apparate. If he wasn't on the brink of attempting something truly life-changing, he would have felt pathetic. Because apparating was something he'd been able to manage many times in the middle of a war, in the midst of many harrowing auror missions, and even sometimes while on the brink of death. But he wasn't certain he could accomplish it safely at the prospect of facing his very best friend. Not given what he was set to tell her.

His best friend- the woman he now suspected was the love of his life.

That idea was the source of his nerves, as that was a phrase he'd never even _thought_ in the past. Despite the fact that he'd been engaged to somebody else and probably should have at least considered it in regards to her. But looking back on it, he never had. Because there had always been somebody else that he loved more. Hermione had firmly entrenched herself in his heart before he'd ever even really met Ginny.

Which was probably why he'd never allowed himself to entertain the idea of Hermione in a romantic light. She was too important, he couldn't have afforded to risk their relationship in the past. At which thought he second guessed- for at least the thousandth time- if he could risk what he was planning to do now.

Once again he arrived at the same conclusion. Which was that he didn't have much of a choice. Because while he'd spent the entire flight to London thinking of one woman, he'd spent the entire flight back thinking of another. That was when he'd decided that he couldn't _not_ risk it.

At first he'd wondered if he should hold off acting on his feelings and let his relationship with Ginny fade into the past. But, perhaps selfishly, he just didn't want to. Now that he was aware of his feelings for Hermione he was also coming to understand how very long he'd felt that way, and he didn't want to waste any more time.

Also, his relationship with Ginny had died a slow and natural death, as hard as that was to admit. However, he was very certain it was over. He was not longing for her, and there would be an ocean between them, he would not be rubbing anything that might happen between himself and Hermione in her face.

Not to mention that his time was limited. He was only in America for six months, more than a month of which had already passed. He couldn't afford to dither around allowing whatever people would deem to be the 'appropriate amount' of time to pass between his breakup and starting a new relationship. He knew how he felt, but loving somebody and building and maintaining a relationship with them were two different issues. He learned that from Ginny. He needed time to see if he and Hermiome could make a real go of things.

With that in mind, and just because of his own restlessness, he hadn't stuck around England for long after speaking to Ginny. He hadn't visited any of the other Weasleys, not even Ron. Perhaps it made him a coward, but he'd told Ginny that she could break their news to her family, and he thought that trumped the best friend card.

He'd taken care of some business with his Wizengamot proxy that was more easily handled in person. After which, he'd inspected Potter House to make sure things were being kept in order. He trusted his elves, but they would have had a fit if he'd been in the country and not stopped by. Other than that, all he did was pop up to Hogsmeade in order to visit Honeydukes to get Astoria some of her favorite chocolates and Hermione some sugar quills, neither of which could be procured in the States.

He slept two nights in Potter House. He still loved it, but although it would always be home, it no longer called to him in the same way it had. He longed for a witch an ocean away and her little Brooklyn flat.

He rang Hermione from Heathrow to tell her that he was flying back and give her his arrival time and when he did he found himself a little breathless by how absolutely ecstatic she sounded to hear from him. So, he boarded a plane without looking back. And when he landed he immediately hailed a cab to her place, not stopping by his hotel to bathe, or even deposit his luggage. In fact, he didn't even consider it.

He was glad it was evening and that she'd be home. He was also happy that he hadn't been in Britain long enough to acclimate to local time- though he knew he'd be fighting let lag on top of just pure exhaustion for days. And he regretted the lack of shower once he was standing in front of her building, but there was no going back now, his nerves couldn't take it.

After buzzing him up before the second syllable of his name had even left his mouth, he found her waiting for him at her front door. She was leaning against the door jamb, beaming at him. When he reached the landing she literally threw herself at him, no hesitation that he wouldn't catch her. He hugged her close and something settled in his heart: he could come home to this forever.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, kissing the place right in front of her ear, "I'm sure I smell like an airplane."

She pulled back looking rather gobsmacked and he realized that he had never been so forward in his affection for her, but she quickly smiled at him. "No, you smell like Harry." She raised a hand to his face but then seemed to think better of it and dropped it as her open expression shuttered. "I'm happy to offer you a shower though, if you'd like. You came straight here?" She eyed the one piece of luggage he'd brought with him and the hold-all he had across his shoulders.

"I wanted to talk to you and it didn't feel like it could wait," he admitted.

"Of course, come on in." She waved him into her flat. "Can I get you anything?" She gestured to the kitchen.

Harry started to refuse but then noticed how dry his mouth was: the combined result of the transatlantic flight and his nerves.

"Water?" He asked.

"Of course," she smiled, and it looked like she was going to reach for him again but dropped her arm almost immediately. "I think I'm going to make myself some tea. Would you like a cup too?"

"Oh, yes, thank you."

"Well, you can come with me, make yourself comfortable in the living room, or you're welcome to the bathroom if you'd like to freshen up." She chuckled. "Not that you need to, but since you mentioned smelling like an airplane I thought you might be feeling grimy, whatever you'd like…" she trailed off.

He didn't like how uncertain she was suddenly behaving around him, but he did need to pull himself together. He motioned in the direction of her bathroom. "I'll just go splash some water on my face."

"Take a shower if you like Harry." She seemed to gather herself and reached out to grasp his arm, this time she didn't stop herself and gently squeezed his bicep, "I'd like to hope we're well past standing on ceremony."

He released a breath. "You're right. That would be great."

"Okay, take your time, I'll be here whenever you're done. I don't know what's been going on but I know that it must have been a long few days for you," she gifted him with the sweetest smile he'd ever seen as she spoke

He wanted to kiss her. He quickly checked himself and smiled at her in return. "Thank you."

"You know where everything is?"

He nodded. "I'm all set, thank you Mione. It's nice to have somebody to come home to."

And he swore he could have seen her eyes melt, but that he'd also confused her with his declaration. He high-tailed it to the loo before he could do anything even more stupid like grab her and kiss her instead of just thinking about it.

In the bathroom he started the water for his shower, quickly stripped, but when he caught his own reflection in the mirror he gripped the sink on either side and glared at himself. "Get it together Potter," he ordered.

He showered, considered trimming his beard but decided that such frivolities were a waste of time at the moment, and then dressed in comfortable sweats. Hermione was not one to judge, or even care about what he was wearing.

When he entered the living room she was curled up on the couch, a cup of tea cradled in her hands. A second cup- still steaming- as well as a bottle of water were situated on the coffee table, clearly waiting for him to emerge. She looked up immediately at the sound of the door opening.

"Hey," she greeted him softly, but she didn't meet his eyes. "I kept it warm for you. Are you sure there's nothing else you'd like? Are you hungry?"

Harry just stared at her for a moment, not liking how uncertain she was suddenly behaving around him. He strode across the room and slid onto the sofa next to her. "I'm fine, love, maybe in a little while we could consider ordering something in, if you're hungry. I'm still settling in."

"That sounds good," she nodded. She took a few measured breaths, her foot tapping against the carpet. "So what's up?"

Harry smiled to himself, unsurprised and amused. How long could he have expected her to keep her curiosity at bay? Frankly, he was astounded by her restraint.

He cupped the mug of tea between his palms and eyed her. "I broke up with Ginny."

She went completely still for a moment but then she closed her eyes and took several long breaths. When she opened them again she met his earnestly. "I'm sorry."

"I'm not," he answered immediately.

Hermione looked almost alarmed.

"I'm sorry that it didn't work out, of course," he rushed to explain, "but I'm happy I realized it before we did something foolish like get married."

She just gazed at him over her cup. "Still," She drew out the word.

"It's sad. But it was time."

He watched her swallow and reach for him reflexively, she once again tried to snatch her hand back before he noticed, but he grabbed it before she could.

"Does this bother you?" He asked her, lacing their fingers together.

"No. But I'm not sure it's appropriate."

"Okay," he said quietly, and reluctantly released her hand.

"Things must be difficult for you right now and I hate that," a small hand found his forearm and he was unspeakably comforted by it. Then again, he shouldn't have been surprised, Hermione had been lending him courage since he was eleven years old, which was perhaps why he hadn't recognized it before: he'd become so accustomed to this woman's love that he hadn't recognized it for what it was.

"Yes. But I'm mostly relieved." Harry answered, only now realizing how much it was true.

"Really?"

"I'm not going to try and convince you that I didn't love Ginny. Or that some part of me still does. But this has been coming for a long time."

Hermione's eyes narrowed. "Then why were you going to marry her? That's an awfully big commitment."

"You're right. It's just that she doesn't understand me and she doesn't love me the way I've always craved to be loved. It's not her fault. However, it was inevitable, I think, that we were going to separate. I'm just happy I realized it now and not too late. Breaking a marriage bond is painful."

Hermione could only stare at Harry. What was he telling her? She had been worrying over him and what he was up to for four days. She had been thrilled that he'd called her to let her know when he'd be headed home- no, not home, back to New York. She had never expected him to show up on her doorstep less than twelve hours later with his suitcase still in hand to tell her that he'd broken his engagement with Ginny.

No matter what Astoria, and even Leah, had said she hadn't really believed it. But she was ecstatic at the confirmation that he and Ginny were no longer together, and she felt terribly guilty for it. Because she should be sad, right? Her friends, who had been together for a long time and were set to get married, were now broken up. She should feel upset, and since she didn't, it was only right that she felt guilty.

"Hermione?" Harry's voice startled her out of her reverie.

"I'm sorry," she lurched forward and enveloped him in her arms, "you must be heartbroken."

They both went still, he breathed deeply and she would have sworn she felt his lips brush against the skin of her neck.

"Would it make me a terrible person if I said that I wasn't?"

"Of course not," she breathed against his shoulder, "you could never be a terrible person."

They held each other for a long time, Hermione was almost tempted to drift off to sleep, so comforted was she by his scent and the sound of his heartbeat.

"Okay, then I have something to tell you."

She easily pulled back and regarded him as he cupped her shoulders, though dread tugged at her heartstrings. "Go ahead." She encouraged.

"I have feelings for you, like romantic kind of feelings." He looked anywhere but at her as he spoke.

She loved him with all of her heart, but he had never been eloquent. She'd never had a greater shock in her life and the immobilization spell he'd cast on her when they'd dueled just a few days before was nothing compared to the way those words froze her on the spot.

She blinked at him.

Eventually her mouth began to open and close stupidly, attempting to respond to his statement, but it didn't work.

Why couldn't she speak?

She'd hoped for this moment. Leah and Astoria had been certain he loved her, and she wanted that to be true so badly. And yet she felt frozen in place at what sounded like confirmation of that very feeling. Her chest was tight with emotion and she struggled to breathe.

He disentagled himself from her and leapt to his feet, his face inscrutable. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I'll see you later. Don't worry, we never have to speak of this again, it won't affect our friendship."

Hermione gasped. He shocked her. But she hated how he'd given up so easily, how he'd been able to wipe his face of any emotion without any effort. Merlin, how long, how many times had he been forced to do that? She knew something of his past- before Hogwarts- she had some idea of what it had taken for him to make friends, and especially to trust people the way he had her and Ron.

It was her turn to be brave.

She had never been so grateful for her hard earned defensive skills as she was when she was able to snag his wrist and pull him back down beside her. He spun his head to look at her, his gaze wary and maybe a little angry, but he didn't pull his arm out of her grip.

"I'm sorry," he breathed, "I never meant to make you uncomfortable. I obviously completely understood the situation."

Hermione released his wrist to grasp his hand in hers. When she tugged at his arm he automatically tugged in return, helping her off of the sofa. "Such a gentleman," she chuckled, intertwining their fingers.

She brought her free hand to his face, finally allowing herself to indulge in a way she'd been fantasizing about for weeks and scratching her fingertips through his facial hair.

"Harry?"

"Hmmm?" He answered, leaning into her touch in a way Crookshanks once had, making her laugh.

His eyes popped open and his gaze was so adoring that it made her breath catch. And she knew that it was time. She had to tell him the truth, she had to tell him everything.

"I love you completely and I have for a very long time."


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

It was Harry's turn to be frozen in place. He was absolutely giddy, but he was almost unable to believe what his best friend- his love- had just said to him. But then he noticed Hermione's face fall. She looked away from him and took a suspiciously shaky breath, at which point he realized his mistake. She'd told him she loved him and he'd said: nothing.

He was just so flabbergasted. He'd had some vague, nebulous idea, paired with Malfoy's words (because despite the fact that the man was an utter arse, he was also very observant) that she might have felt something more than just friendship for him. But frankly: 'I love you and I have for a very long time,' was beyond his wildest dreams.

So, he was thrilled, but uncertain, and maybe even a little intimidated by the idea. A very long time? How long? How many things had he missed over the years if he had been ignorant to something so enormous, and what did that mean?

He fell back down on the couch beside her and- despite his insecurities- he couldn't help but place an arm around her. The woman for whom he'd just traversed an ocean twice over, and ended a years long relationship just to have a chance to be with, had just said that she loved him. That she _had_ loved him for a long time.

It was only the look of what he could only describe as pure terror on her face that pulled him out of his reverie.

"Hermione?"

"I'm sorry, was that too much? Did I come on too strong? I know you just broke up with Ginny, I just didn't want you to doubt-" she let out a little sob.

"Hermione," he tried to interrupt.

But she continued on as if she hadn't even heard him in that way that was just so 'Hermione' of her. "I love you. I've been holding it in too long, I needed to say it."

The declaration hit him differently this time.

There had been one moment in his life before this one- only one, and that was really saying something, given what he'd been through- when he had felt like the world stopped. And when it started again, it had been a different place. That moment was when Voldemort had fallen for the final time. It had been a relief, and he had known that his world had been remade, and that it was a place where he would finally be allowed to truly live. But it had also been marred by grief and exhaustion.

This, this was so much better. This was joy. Everything he'd been through to get to this moment had been absolutely worth it. "Oh Hermione," he gasped.

Her face crumpled and she burst into tears.

"Hey," he soothed, cupping the back of her neck, and somewhere in the back of his mind he realized that he was doing a terrible job reassuring her, but she'd well and truly gobsmacked him. "None of that."

"Maybe you should go and we can start this conversation over another time."

"No!" He practically shouted. "I don't think I could force myself to leave you right now unless you basically order me away."

She gazed at him as she wiped at her cheeks, and he saw both hope and fear in her eyes.

"I don't want you to leave."

"Good," he breathed a sigh of relief. "But I do think we need to talk."

"A long and embarrassing conversation, I'm sure," she said ruefully, but she leaned her forehead against his shoulder and that brought him comfort that this conversation wasn't about to completely implode, at least. "I just promised them I would tell you how I felt if you broke up with Ginny."

"Them?" He asked, amused, despite himself. It was typical for Hermione's mind to jump around in ways he assumed he would never be able to follow. And it seemed, in this instance, things were no different.

She sat up and moved away from him slightly, throwing her head back so that it was resting half-way on the back of the couch and half on his arm. "Well I guess I might as well tell you everything."

"I think that would be a good place to start." But he smiled at her, hoping to reduce the harshness of his words.

She turned her head and rolled her eyes at him. "Leah and Astoria. Leah's known how I felt about you for years, and I kind of blurted it out to Astoria the morning you left. But apparently it was already obvious anyway."

He laughed at his own obliviousness. "Not to me."

She bit her lip. "I suppose that's a good and a bad thing."

"What does that mean?"

"Well, as much as I'd have liked for us to have...come to terms with these feelings years ago, I'm just not sure that either of us was prepared for it. Does that make sense?"

He could only nod. He had needed to work out his feelings for Ginny after the war. If he hadn't, he had a sneaking suspicion he always would have wondered, and it could have tainted anything he'd started with Hermione. She deserved better than that. Also, at that point, he was still clinging to Hermione as the only constant in his life, and it probably would have been unhealthy to make her into even more than that.

"And then there were just so many things being piled onto you," she continued. "I couldn't bear for my feelings to be something you had to worry about, or be something that might come between us."

He frowned. "I can't imagine that happening."

"Oh Harry, I know you mean that now. But remember how it was when we were teenagers?

As much as you had the weight of the world on your shoulders, you still noticed girls. I just never seemed to be one of them, at least not in that way, so I wasn't going to place these feelings on you…can you really say that wouldn't have totally freaked you out?"

He stared at her as her words re-registered: 'A very long time.' For some reason he had immediately assumed that her feelings had developed during the horcrux hunt, which perhaps told him something about his own feelings. But it sounded like it had been longer than that.

His heart ached for what she'd suffered, while he also admitted to himself that she was probably right. He had been a blind, ignorant, and stupid teenager. He probably couldn't have appreciated Hermione. He might not have realized that he wanted her even if she had approached him directly. He had been distracted by the pretty, shiny things in his periphery. He wasn't sure he had been capable of truly seeing the tremendous girl who had been right in front of him- or more correctly, standing stalwart at his side- all along.

But he still mourned the idea of the time they'd lost. Not just as lovers, but as friends. All this time she'd been away-

And that's when he put the pieces together, and the full picture came into view.

"You left because of me, didn't you? You moved away because you felt this way and I was with Ginny," he blurted. It was probably the most conceited thing he'd ever said, and he immediately cringed and regretted it. But her breath hitched and his intuition flared. "Oh darling," he whispered.

"I know it's pathetic," she said in a small voice. "It's not the way Hermione Granger: Order of Merlin First Class, Brightest Witch of Her Age, should act."

Harry was a bit dumbfounded, he knew what a burden expectations could be. He had been born under the weight of them in the form of both his last name and a prophecy, and he was still formulating a response to this when she continued.

"It wasn't the _only_ reason. I just didn't have a safe space in Britain anymore. My parents were gone, Hogwarts was ruined for me after all I'd seen there, the Burrow soured. Ron...it wasn't that I didn't care for him, love him even, or that I don't still love him in a certain way, but I felt like I had used him badly. You were my only refuge and that wasn't fair to anybody involved. So yes, that's why I left. I felt like the only thing I could do was start over completely."

"Hermione," he gasped.

"I tried to keep in touch, but it was just too hard. And I'm sorry that I did that, that I made you feel like you didn't matter," she answered.

"Hey, hey," he lowered his arm and reached it around her, squeezing her to him. "It's okay," he soothed, kissing her temple.

"It's not," she whispered, "don't pretend that it is."

"I'm not saying I'm happy about it," he clarified, "but now that you've explained I do understand, and I feel a lot better about it."

His mind was racing. He was partially shocked that his best friend had been able to hide so much from him. But another part of him thought that what she was saying made total sense, and that maybe somewhere deep down, he'd known all along. A few deep breaths of her scent as she cuddled against him and he almost laughed- what a fool he was.

"And it's okay," he reassured her again, he tapped her chin so that she would meet his eyes. "I love you too. And yes, I just got out of a relationship, but we'll figure this out."

She went completely rigid and then tore herself out of his arms. "Are you serious?" She nearly shrieked.

He was a little insulted by her response. "Mione, do you think I would lie to you, or toy with you?"

She let out a long breath. "Of course not. I'm sorry this is just feeling…" there was a long pause, her mouth opened and closed as she obviously struggled for words.

"Feeling a little surreal?" He attempted to help.

"A little too good to be true."

They just stared at each other until she began to grin and he felt himself return it. Feeling light, happy and impish Harry responded: "Well I am fairly amazing. I can understand how you would worry about that," he joked

"Harry James, ego is not attractive!" She chided, using his given and middle name, as only she ever did, and he thought he might burst with happiness at the playful reprimand. But it was also a reminder that he couldn't allow himself to mess this up, could not lose this special woman.

She settled herself against his shoulder and he kissed the top of her head. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure," he responded, without really thinking about it.

"Is Ginny okay? I mean, I know she's not _okay_ , so to speak. But she's my friend, though she probably wouldn't say so anymore, and I'm sorry to bring it up but-"

"Hermione, Hermione, I know what you mean, and it's okay. I think that she's okay as well, or at least that she _will_ be," he hastened to reassure her. He exhaled heavily. How had he never realized how thoroughly _good_ the witch in his arms was? "She wasn't surprised, I'm not sure if I should feel better or worse about that. I think I might be a terrible partner."

"You're not," she said immediately.

"How would you know?" He asked, and immediately winced at how harsh he sounded. Not just given what she'd just confessed, but because he knew how she was, she wouldn't have said that if she hadn't meant it.

"Because I know you," she answered, nearly echoing his thoughts.

He did not deserve her. Perhaps that was one of the reasons he'd never imagined the two of them together.

"You're sad," Hermione guessed, she gazed at him and then tentatively raised one hand to run her fingers through his beard. "You should be," she continued, "you were with Ginny for a long time. Don't be afraid to hide that from me. It's natural."

He decided now was not the time to correct her about the course of his thoughts; about the fact that they were so much more about her than about his so-recent ex. "I feel so many things, I don't know how to explain them to myself," he answered instead, honestly, if not completely so.

"I'm here," she murmured as she continued to rake her fingers through his beard and then up into his hair. He leaned into her touch. "Whatever you want or need from me, and whenever you're ready."

His eyes snapped to hers. He had decided that he didn't want to wait to pursue her, that he had no need to wait. But the idea also frightened him in a way that no dark lord or villain had ever had. However, her tender actions made him brave. In fact, he didn't think he could hold back.

"I'm ready." With anybody else he would have been embarrassed by the husky quality he heard in his own voice

"Harry," she responded, her eyes were wary but she was beaming at him. "What does that mean?"

"Do you trust me?"

The look of sheer incredulity on her face almost made him laugh."Of course I do."

He took her wrist and brought her hand away from his face, he couldn't properly concentrate when she was touching him. And then he leaned in and met his lips with hers.

There were no fireworks when they kissed, or any other cliche. Just a feeling of rightness that settled in his soul had Harry wishing he'd recognized their connection while they had been at Hogwarts. He knew that maybe she was right, maybe they would have screwed it all up if they'd acknowledged things and given it a go back then, but he could only think how comforting it would have been to have such a thing in his life during the war.

"Hi," he murmured when he eventually pulled away, though he kept his forehead pressed against hers.

"Hi," she said in response, kissing the tip of his nose. "As much as I'd like to just keep doing this, we should finish talking."

He was almost tempted to pout even though it had been his suggestion. But he shook himself. "You mean so much to me."

She chuckled, her head on his shoulder. "You mean a lot to me too."

"And I'd like to see you- romantically," he rolled his eyes to himself, thinking how many ways they were essentially doing this backwards.

"I would like to think I've made it abundantly clear by now that I want that as well." She grinned at him- albeit shly.

"But I'd like to take things slowly. I can't even think of losing you if we're too reckless."

"I agree," she nodded.

"You do?" He wasn't sure what he'd expected, but it wasn't simply acquiescence, that wasn't really Hermione's style.

She shot him a knowing look and rolled her eyes. "I know I've done a terrible job managing my interpersonal relationships in Britain as of late, but I'm not totally stupid."

"Of course not, that's pretty much the last thing I'd called you." He shifted but kept her hugged close. "So we'll take our time."

"Yeah, we'll take our time."

Harry gazed at her: her flushed cheeks, the heat in her eyes, the way she licked her lips, and thought that he might be the stupidest man on the planet. Take their time, indeed.

 **Author's note: So grateful to you guys for the enthusiastic response to the last chapter, I tried not to keep you hanging too long. Thanks for reading!**


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Ron Weasley was in a good mood as he flooed to the Burrow for his family's weekly Sunday brunch. Fantastic even. He'd recently made a big arrest, gaining him a bonus and allowing him to splurge for the new broom he'd been saving up for. And this was the first time he'd really be able to put it through its paces in the orchards around his childhood home, and to use it in the family pick-up quidditch game.

Plus, his girlfriend was accompanying him. Something she had been doing more and more often lately. He was beginning to think that the next thing he should start saving for was a ring. Maybe he should ask Harry for advice about how he knew when it was time to propose to Ginny.

His mind stuttered at the thought.

Harry wouldn't be there. He was in America... with Hermione. He hadn't spoken to Harry since he'd left. That wasn't unusual, blokes didn't ring each other to chat, for Merlin's sake.

But he'd heard from his mother, who had heard from Ginny, that Harry and Hermione had reconnected. He was enough of a man to be able to admit that he was jealous. Because gods he missed them both.

He'd been missing Hermione for years, of course. After he got over their break up and finally accepted her decision to move away, he'd simply missed her. He had wished she'd visit more often. He even wished for more of her long nagging letters.

He had missed Harry too, in the past. When his best friend was on assignment Ron often had to stop himself from flooing Potter House to ask him if he wanted to go for a fly, or out for a pint. But now, knowing that they were together, it was different. It was like a part of him was missing and he ached for days gone by when, despite the world being a much scarier place, the three of them being together had made everything alright.

He shook off his thoughts easily when he stepped into the Burrow and was greeted by the familiar sounds of his large family and the smell of brunch cooking. It was going to be a good day.

His confidence lasted for about a minute. Exactly as long as it took for him to spot his sister, who looked terrible; she had the look of somebody who had been doing a lot of crying lately, somebody who was grieving. Unfortunately, he knew that look all too well.

And for a moment Ron was seized with panic, one name running through his mind: Harry. But then a voice in his head, which even after all these years still sounded like Hermione, told him to calm down. The voice assured him that if something had happened to Harry he would have been told already, and the Burrow would certainly not have its normal boisterous atmosphere.

"I'm going to talk to Ginny," he murmured to Lavender, indicating with his head in the direction of his sister. "And I think I should probably go alone." Lavender followed his line of sight and her eyes went wide when she caught sight of the younger witch.

"Yeah, okay, of course go take care of your sister. I'll go see if your mum needs some help."

"Thanks, love." He kissed her cheek and made his way over to Ginny. He felt eyes on him as he crossed the room and he instinctively knew that he was not the only one who had noticed that there was something wrong with the youngest Weasley, and probably not the only one to try and talk to her.

But Ron hoped that she might open up to him. They had a special relationship. Given that there was just over a year between them in age they'd really only had each other growing up. As kids Fred and George had existed in their own little world, and their three eldest brothers had seemed so much older than them, they'd had nothing in common.

He had resented that he only had her for company when they were younger. But now he had to admit that, especially as little sisters went, she had been cool. In fact, she continued to be cool: he had all the free quidditch tickets he wanted. And though he would never, ever say it out loud, he was proud as hell of her.

"Hey Gin," he approached, trying to sound casual. "How was training this week?"

She took a deep breath and didn't look up at him, just picked at the cushion of the chair where she was seated. "I took a few days off."

Ron just stood there blinking at her. He'd known she was upset, but this was more serious than he'd imagined. She had once gotten such a serious fracture in her leg that she had to have her femur vanished and regrown, and she'd still been back on the pitch the next day. She didn't skip practice for anything.

"Is everything okay?" He asked tentatively.

She finally turned her head and he automatically took a step back at the blazing anger in her eyes. "What do you think?"

Ron licked his lips and resisted the urge to retreat completely. "Do you want to tell me what's wrong?"

She bent her head and took another deep breath, and then another, though this one came out more shuddering, like she was trying not to cry. He stepped forward and put a hand on her shoulder. He knew from experience that was a maneuver which would either calm her down or open the floodgates, but it was the least he could offer her. She took a few more deep breaths until suddenly her head snapped up and she looked at him with determination.

"Give me a hand?"

"Uh, sure?"

She stood up, but instead of taking his hand used his shoulder to help steady herself as she stepped up onto the chair where she'd been seated.

"I have an announcement to make!" She called, to Ron's surprise. It took a few moments but the house went mostly quiet. "The wedding's off." The declaration was succinct, almost curt.

And at that the house became absolutely silent. Even the children seemed to sense the shocking nature of the moment. Predictably, it was his mother who broke the silence.

"I'm sorry, love, what did you just say?" She asked his sister.

Ginny took another of those shuddering breaths and her grip on his shoulder tightened. "I said that the wedding is off. Harry and I have broken up."

Ron knew that he was notorious for allowing his mouth to run away from him, for saying insensitive or even cruel things. It was a tendency he'd tried to curtail over the years. But later he would be certain that in this moment he had been absolutely helpless to stop it: "What do you mean you and Harry broke up, he's in America?!"

Ginny turned her head and sneered, actually sneered at him, her voice chilling. "Yes, well, he made a special trip home to come break up with me."

Ron felt his temper rising at his best friend for hurting his sister. But he was also very confused by what she was saying, and that kept him frozen in place and not storming off in a rage.

"Harry was here?" His mother asked. "And he didn't come and see us?"

"Mum! He was here to _break up with me_!" Ginny made a little sound of derision. "Anyway, he offered to come by and tell you himself but I sent him back to Hermione."

Ron's heart seized at that statement. "What do you mean you 'sent him back to Hermione?'" He asked automatically.

Ginny looked down at him and let out a sound that could only be described as a hiss. "Oh please. You know better than anybody what I mean."

He did.

He knew Harry and Hermione.

He knew how special their relationship had always been and he'd always suspected...but he also knew Harry and Hermione. And he didn't believe what his sister was implying.

However, looking at Ginny, seeing how obviously hurt she was, he was furious. He was angry and injured that he had no idea what was really going on with his best friends. And he was growing more confused with every passing second. The three of them were supposed to be together, forever: a team. What had happened?

* * *

The Weasleys had continued with their traditional Sunday meal after Ginny's announcement. It had been tense and quiet aside from his mother's occasional soft sobs. Ginny returned to her flat without partaking in the brunch, nobody had been able to convince her to stay. And Ron continued to be baffled about what he should be feeling.

On one hand his sister was hurt. Harry had hurt her. That was undisputed. And she was his sister, which was an indescribable bond.

On the other hand, if anybody had earned his loyalty and trust it was Harry Potter.

Ron's feelings for Hermione were more complicated, but he was still confident that she was a good person. He didn't think either of them would intentionally hurt anybody. He was so confused and it left him feeling listless and removed from the situation.

As a result, Lavender was easily able to coax him back to his flat at the first possible opportunity.

"Ring him," Lavender encouraged after they were seated on his couch. "Harry," she clarified when he just gazed at her, uncomprehendingly, as she waved his mobile in his face.

He rarely used the thing. Harry had given it to him as a Christmas present a couple of years before. He enjoyed the so called 'text' feature; it was like being able to send short, instantaneous owls. However, speaking over the device still felt unnatural. But Lavender was right, he couldn't just pretend that this morning hadn't happened.

He couldn't pretend he didn't feel somewhat betrayed.

He couldn't pretend that the idea of his best friends being _together_ didn't make him highly uncomfortable, or that he wouldn't stew over it until he at least knew one way or the other if there was some truth to Ginny's barely disguised accusations.

And there was a primal part of him that felt the need to defend his baby sister's honor.

He took a deep breath and hit the button to ring Harry. It was several moments before his best friend answered, his voice groggy and thick with sleep, and it was only then that he remembered the time difference; it was still mid-morning where Harry was.

"Ron?" Harry slurred.

And Ron couldn't help but laugh. "Yeah mate, sorry to wake you. I didn't think. Having a bit of a lie in?"

There was a beat of silence then: "Oh shite, I forgot to set an alarm. Hermione's gonna kill me."

He must have had some kind of reaction to that statement because Lavender immediately took his free hand.

"You have plans with Hermione, do you?" His words came out much more accusatory than he'd meant them to be.

Everything went so quiet that at first Ron thought he had lost the connection with Harry, but then there was a long sigh. "So this is that call, huh?"

"Yeah, yeah I suppose it is."

"Go ahead."

"Go ahead?"

"Whatever you need to say to me, I deserve it, so go ahead."

Ron pulled the device away from his face and glared at it. Stupid, noble git, made it almost impossible to get properly angry with him. But Ron was determined to get through this. "You broke up with my sister. You hurt her."

"I did and I'm sorry I hurt her. I certainly didn't do it intentionally. But she deserves better than-" he paused and cleared his throat, "yeah, I did."

"What were you going to say Harry? She deserves better than what?"

"A man who loves her, but will always love somebody else more," his best friend admitted with a sigh.

He experienced a flash of rage, then sadness. Though he wasn't quite sure he knew why. He felt Lavender taking his mobile from limp fingers. And then watched her doing something, he wasn't sure what, but she put the phone on the coffee table in front of them and suddenly he could hear Harry without having to hold it to his ear.

"Can I assume from your silence that you know I'm talking about Hermione?"

"Well," Ron scoffed, "Ginny did say she sent you back to Hermione."

"I wish she hadn't said that."

"Why, don't want your secret exposed?" Ron hissed.

"No! Because it's not fair to Hermione, Ron! She has done nothing wrong," Harry shouted. "I never meant for this to happen, and I never lied to you about Hermione. I'm just an idiot and I only now realized. Be angry with me all you want, but she's truly done nothing wrong."

"I- I don't know what to say." He was honestly taken back by the vehemence of Harry's response.

"Imagine how I feel," Harry snorted. Then there was a pause. "Fuck," he swore quietly. "Merlin, Ron, I'm sorry, I can't believe I just said that."

He could just picture Harry running his hands through his hair and down his face in his discomfort. It was almost enough to make him laugh.

"I should want to kill you," he paused. "Maybe I do, but then again, I know I never could."

"I get it, I mean, she's your sister."

"Which is the problem with your best friend falling for your sister," Ron huffed. "You said you wouldn't hurt her."

"I never meant to," Harry reiterated.

Ron was angry, and a big part of him wanted to rant and rave and tell Harry what a terrible person he was. But the problem was that he knew Harry. And he knew that he was telling the truth. That he'd turn his wand on himself before he hurt any innocent person, much less somebody he cared for.

It was bloody annoying.

There was a long, uncomfortable pause and something that had- probably selfishly- been tearing at Ron's heart since he heard Harry and Ginny's news finally burst forth. He was angry on more than just Ginny's behalf, he also felt betrayed himself.

"You once said that Hermione was like your sister," he accused.

Ron could now openly admit that he and Hermione had no business being in a relationship, that they had never been destined. But he also didn't want to hear that his best friends had been hiding such a massive secret from him. He really didn't like feeling like he'd been played for a fool.

Harry let out a startled little laugh. "Oh, mate, I'm such an idiot. When I said that I meant it, I'd swear on my magic."

"So you haven't always loved her?"

"I- I don't know to be honest. I don't know when it started. I don't know when she went from being my best friend to something more."

"I don't understand. How could you not know? Either you think of her like a sister, or you think of her like...a woman."

"It's not that simple Ron," Harry breathed, "at least not for me."

"How is it not?" He demanded.

"What's the most important thing in the world to you?" Harry asked, without missing a beat.

"My family," Ron answered, also without hesitation.

He heard his oldest friend release a long breath.

"And that's how I feel about you and Hermione. You were- are- my family. We were in the middle of a war when I said that. I couldn't even consider Hermione romantically when there was so much other stuff going on. I just knew that she was one of the most important things in the world to me, so I compared her to my sister. I wasn't lying, I swear it. But I see now how naive I was. And I want you to know that nothing happened between me and Hermione until after I broke up with Ginny."

Ron closed his eyes as these words settled into his heart. "But you are together now?" He clarified.

"Yeah. Yeah we are. I understand if it will take you a while to get used to it. I even understand if you're angry about it, but we're definitely together now."

Yet another long silence as Ron tried to figure out just what he was feeling.

"I don't know what to say," he finally said helplessly.

"I understand." There was an awkward pause. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry. I never meant to hurt Ginny or any of the rest of your family. I never meant to put you in this position. I know you're kind of in the middle of this and that's unfair."

Ron scoffed. "But you did Harry, that's not just gonna go away."

"I know. I don't expect it to."

There was an odd sound in the background as he spoke that had Ron frowning at the phone.

"Harry James! Wake up! I told you to set an alarm!" Hermione's muffled voice suddenly came across the line. And Ron realized that the sound he'd heard was her knocking on the door, and that she was now yelling through it. "Seriously," she continued, "hurry up, I don't want to listen to twenty minutes of Malfoy ragging on us because we couldn't even manage to get to brunch on time!"

"Give me a minute, Ron," Harry said.

"No, it's okay, I'll let you go," he answered quickly. He wasn't necessarily angry (okay, yes, he was), but he really didn't think he was ready to witness this new reality of his best friends as a couple, even if he was just listening in, second-hand.

"Harry!" He heard Hermione calling again, "are you okay? Why haven't you been answering my calls?" She sounded more than a little frightened now and Ron's heart lurched. He had far too much experience with the feeling of not knowing if somebody you loved was okay, and with these two people specifically, he could even imagine the look she probably had on her face.

"Seriously, I just need a second Ron."

"No, just give Hermione my love, okay?" He told Harry, squeezing his eyes shut. "Obviously not like _that."_

Harry let out a startled laugh. "No, I knew what you meant. And I will, she'll be happy to hear it, and I know she'd send hers in return." He heard a few more muffled calls of Harry's name and then what was obviously the sound of a door opening. "I'll speak to you soon?"

"Yeah soon." He disconnected the call without further comment and looked up to see Lavender gazing at him with sympathy. But there was something else there too: she wasn't at all surprised by what she'd just heard. "How long have you known?" He asked her.

"About Harry and Hermione?" She wondered.

"Yeah." He answered on a resigned sigh.

She just stared at him for the longest time. "Since always." She moved closer to him and took his hand. "And I think you have too."

 **Author's note: How did you guys like hearing from Ron? I know people tend to have strong feelings about him- one way or the other- so I hope you enjoyed this. Obviously this chapter was a little different. There's a reason for that. The first time I had a story reach 1,000 followers on this site I wrote a bonus chapter to thank my readers and just to mix things up. It's become a tradition for me whenever a story reaches that particular milestone. This is that chapter for this fic. So, thank you guys so much and I'll be back soon and we'll be back with Harry and Hermione. Beta love to Weestarmeggie. Thanks for reading!**


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

When Harry marched into her office his magic felt like a thunderstorm. It was alternatively terrifying and exciting. Hermione could see that he barely resisted the urge to slam the door behind him and as soon as it was closed he hurled something across the room. She ducked on instinct even as the object didn't crash but soared towards one and then the other side of her office.

"Harry!" She shrieked.

His face immediately cleared and he grinned at her, though the expression seemed strained. "Sorry, love, but it's a snitch. It's charmed to avoid being caught. It was never going to hit you," he explained as he strode a few feet forward and- apparently without any real effort- snagged the little golden ball out of the air.

She huffed. "Perhaps, in the future, you could refrain from hurling any objects- no matter how they're charmed- across my office?"

Harry just nodded absentmindedly and began to pace, tossing the snitch from one hand to the other. His magic was calmer than it had been when he'd come into the room but he was still obviously very agitated. Hermione rounded her desk and perched herself on the edge of it, waiting until he had gathered his thoughts and was prepared to talk.

He continued to pace and mutter to himself for about five minutes before he abruptly came to a halt right in front of her.

"Would you like to tell me what the problem is?" She asked, quirking an eyebrow at him.

"Andrews is a bloody moron!"

"Well I can admit that he doesn't always act like the most responsible auror in the department, but it was my understanding that he was fairly competent. What did he do to make you feel otherwise?" She asked patiently.

He shot her a sharp look. "He refuses to take instruction."

Hermione sighed, not being particularly surprised. Harry's reputation preceded him, and both he and Draco were younger and therefore technically had less experience than Andrews, and he was a particularly prideful wizard. He was never going to take their assignment well, but she didn't think he was stupid enough to do anything to get Harry this agitated. Then again, Harry had quite the temper and she knew it was possible he'd allowed himself to get overly-riled.

"Would you like to elaborate on that?" She knew it was possible that he might not want to, or even be allowed to, depending on whether they were actively working on a case and its classification; but he must have sought her out for a reason.

He ran a hand through his hair, making it stand up even more spectacularly than usual. "Yesterday, Malfoy and I gave a presentation on interrogation techniques."

She nodded, he'd had to work through the weekend to make up for the time he'd missed while he'd been in England in order to prepare for it. They'd postponed their first date as a result.

"I thought that went well."

He nodded. "I did too, that's why I was so optimistic today when Andrews and Blevins brought in a suspect for questioning. It was an excellent opportunity to put some of our techniques into practice. Andrews is an aggressive interrogator, which has a place, some suspects respond to that."

"Of course," she agreed quietly.

"But I could tell the moment I set eyes on this suspect that it wouldn't work with him. Malfoy agreed, and don't tell him I said this, but he's even more intuitive about these things than I am."

She chuckled. "Your secret is safe with me."

"We advised them to take a friendly approach, make him feel comfortable. We even volunteered to run the interrogation. That is what we're here for, for Merlin's sake! But they refused."

Hermione made a noncommittal humming noise. She wasn't at all surprised. Harry and Draco were here to advise, but they didn't have the authority to intervene in cases where other aurors were running point, and Andrews (and Blevins as well, for that matter) was not the kind of wizard to voluntarily relinquish his authority. And surely Harry had noticed that by now.

"They hadn't been in the room for three minutes before he was demanding an advocate, wouldn't say another word."

"I'm sorry," she responded sympathetically, but she couldn't help but think his anger was disproportionate to the circumstances. These things happened all the time: suspects refused to speak, leads turned cold. And aurors were notoriously prideful, this couldn't have been anywhere near the first time somebody had failed to take Harry's advice. "That's unfortunate, but I'm sure you'll find another way. You've always been kind of an expert at that." She smiled at him, encouraging, but also teasing him a little.

He stopped pacing, pushed his glasses up on top of his head, and pinched the bridge of his nose. "It was the Silent Killer case."

"Oh Harry," she breathed as understanding dawned on her.

It was an infamous case. To date this wizard (or possibly witch, but they suspected a wizard) had kidnapped and ritually murdered twelve children in the past three years. He worked on a schedule: one child on Beltane, Samhain, and each of the Solstices every year. He'd gotten his name because their investigation had revealed that the last bit of magic performed on each child had been a silencing charm. Such a simple spell, usually innocuous, being used in such a heinous manner meant that it had become his signature.

Child killers were repugnant, for obvious reasons, but they hit Harry especially hard. And this one even moreso. The parents in these cases hadn't even known their child was in danger, much less been given the opportunity to defend them the way his own parents had done for him. It was such a _Harry_ way of thinking.

She held out her arms for him and he walked into them, stepping between her legs and releasing the snitch so that he could grasp her hips, nuzzling her neck.

"If they brought somebody in, they've made some progress at least," she consoled him and he nodded against her shoulder. "If you'd like, I'll go over the files with you, see if anything sticks out. I have clearance to review this case and we've always been a pretty good team." She smiled to herself: their history now brought her joy instead of heartache.

"Thanks love."

They just held each other for several minutes. "Not to mention the stupid bastard has a crush on you," Harry grumbled.

There were several beats of silence as Hermione tried to catch up with Harry's train of thought and when she did she threw her head back and laughed. "You're still talking about Andrews?" She questioned.

"Yes," he spat, not lifting his head from her shoulder.

"No, he doesn't," she contradicted firmly.

At that his head snapped up and he glared at her. "I know what it looks like when a wizard wants a witch. And he definitely wants you."

"Oh, I know that he _wants_ me. But it doesn't matter."

His gaze narrowed further and his hands clenched her hips. "That doesn't make me feel better."

"He doesn't have a crush on me, not really, he just wants to bed me," she clarified, placing a finger against his lips before he could speak. "And if I had any interest in that I would have let him months ago."

Harry let out a sound that was as close to a growl as a human could probably achieve.

"Oh don't be a caveman," she chided. When he said nothing she continued. "And even if he _did_ have a genuine crush on me, I'm with you." She poked him. "I love _you_. I want _you_."

He muttered something about the stupid git needing to keep his eyes off of his witch, a statement which made Hermione roll her eyes to herself.

"What did I just say about being a caveman? And anyway, it's not like we've made a formal announcement that we're together, nor has he ever been inappropriate with me. If he had been, he would have paid for it and you know it. I can take care of myself, unless you don't trust me?" She challenged.

He slumped against her. "Of course I do. I'm sorry. I just really don't like the way he looks at you."

"It's okay, it's not like I'm immune to jealousy." She huffed out a laugh and forced him to look at her, giving him a quick kiss and then smiled wickedly at him. "But honestly, who could possibly look at another wizard when I have the great Harry Potter?" She finished in a falsely sweet voice.

He pinched her side. "Shut up."

She laughed. "He's just so impressive," she continued breathily. "Did you know he once killed a basilisk with his bare hands. Looked it right in the eyes too." She pretended to fan herself.

He snorted. "Well, at least I don't have to worry about my ego with you around," but he said it with a laugh.

"Better?" She asked, kissing his cheek.

"Always. You always make it better." She frowned when his expression shifted from amused to grave once again. "And I have to admit that it scares me how close I was to losing that, to losing you."

"Oh Harry, I'm sorry that I left. I don't think I can say it enough."

"That's not what I meant," he shook his head. "I'm still not thrilled about that, but now that I understand and have worked through being angry with you, I wonder why I didn't come after you. Why I wasn't beating down your door demanding that you let me back into your life? You did that for me so many times. You never let me wallow or disappear into myself. And more than that, I almost married Ginny and- I know it hasn't even been a week but I can no longer imagine not having you in my life like this," he squeezed her demonstratively.

She took a deep breath. "I thought we weren't going to dwell on the 'what ifs?'"

"You're right, I just…"

"It's been an intense couple of weeks?" She provided.

"Exactly." They were silent for a long time but finally he looked up, met her eyes, and grinned, "hi, by the way."

"Hi," she sighed.

He pressed a kiss against her mouth, and then brushed his lips across her cheek, down the side of her face to the junction of her neck and jaw where he started to lightly suck at her skin. She tilted her chin to give him better access.

He had unbuttoned one button of her blouse before she came to her senses. "Harry," she gasped. "We have to stop, we're at work."

His forehead fell to her collarbone and he took several deep breaths. "I'm sorry. I just missed you."

"You saw me last night," she reminded him with a chuckle.

He raised his head, met her eyes and carefully re-buttoned her shirt. "Yes, it's been a very long fourteen or so hours."

"You could have stayed overnight," she told him, running a hand up and down his chest and then she froze when her statement sunk in. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that. I'm not trying to rush you," she added in a hurry.

"I think we may have found a problem, sweetheart," he whispered, head still pressed against her chest.

She let out a long breath and resisted the urge to cradle him to her, she thought it would be very unwise to hold him even closer right now. "I know, I'm sorry. I know you just ended your engagement, for Godric's sake."

He shook his head against her. "You misunderstand me."

"What does that mean?"

He raised his head and those almost unbelievably green eyes met hers. "I wanted to stay last night. In fact, I always want to stay with you. But I don't want to mess this up. We haven't even been on a date! And I'm...very unsure about this relationship stuff."

She considered this, she didn't want to dismiss him out of hand so she chose her words carefully. "You're doing pretty well so far."

"Thanks," he chuckled quietly. "But I really have no idea what I'm doing. You might have to be patient with me, I'm sorry but you have a lot more experience with this than I do."

"With what?" Hermione asked, feeling like she'd gotten lost somewhere along the tracks of his train of thought.

"Relationships?" It was half statement, half question.

She frowned at him. "Harry, you were with Ginny for more than five years."

He shook his head. "We got together when we were teenagers. I think things were different at that stage. And it's been a long time since I've started anything with anybody new, and I've never done it as an adult. Again, you have more experience with that."

She watched his expression shift, she didn't recognize it at first, but then it hit her: Harry was jealous of the men she'd been with in the past. She couldn't decide if she was touched or annoyed by the sentiment.

"So, this is _that_ conversation, is it?"

"What conversation is that?"

"The sexual history conversation?" She arched an eyebrow pointedly.

He shrugged but looked away from her, which told her everything she needed to know.

"Three," she stated bluntly and without hesitation, she wasn't embarrassed by what she had to tell him.

"Excuse me?"

"I've been with three men. That's what you were asking, correct?"

Harry flinched, but eventually nodded.

"I held out until I was twenty-one, but then I decided that it was time I tried to move on from you, especially considering there was nothing to move on from in terms of a romantic relationship. I wanted a full life, that included a sex life. None of those relationships lasted long, none were bad experiences. But each time, once we reached that level of physical intimacy, I realized it wasn't going to work in the long term. Is that what you wanted to know?" She asked as he was gazing at her oddly- not necessarily upset, just off.

"Ron?" He asked.

"What about him?"

"No I thought that you and Ron had…but you just said you were twenty-one."

Hermione reared back in surprise. "Did he tell you that?"

"No," Harry answered quickly. "No he didn't," he sighed, "but he definitely led me to believe it."

For a moment anger surged in her chest, but it quickly receded. "I'm not thrilled that he did that, but I think he let his pride get in the way in this instance. You and Ginny didn't exactly hide what you were up to, and he and I never got past the snogging stage. That wouldn't have been easy for him to admit."

"Sorry," he whispered.

She sighed. "Harry, that wasn't a criticism. You were perfectly entitled to sleep with your girlfriend. You didn't rub our faces in it and again, you were perfectly entitled to sleep with your girlfriend. Even if you had known how I felt, you owed me nothing."

"I owed you a lot," he countered.

"No, don't do that. Seriously Harry, okay?" He nodded. "Now, does that answer your question or are you wanting details?"

He grimaced. "Oh, absolutely not, I'm not even sure why I wanted to know that much."

"It's pretty natural I think," she shrugged. "Especially in our case. There was a time where we knew basically everything about each other and now they're are big holes in our knowledge."

He nodded. "That makes sense. For instance, when did Hermione Granger become the kind of witch who let her boyfriend put his hands up her skirt in the middle of her office?" He smirked at her and looked down to where he had, in fact snuck his hands under the hem of her skirt and was resting them on her thighs.

"Don't press you luck, Potter," she said, but she didn't push him away.

He just kept smirking at her. "Maybe I could bring some things over to your place...just in case I need to stay over."

"That sounds great."

"Not pressing my luck?"

"Nope." She shot him a challenging look and hooked one of her legs around his.

His mouth actually dropped open. "I was about to say how amazing you are at calming me down, but suddenly I'm feeling anything but."

"Is that not a service that Malfoy supplies? Is that why you came down here?" She attempted to joke.

"First of all: gross, Hermione. Second, he's busy filing a complaint with the higher-ups."

"What do you mean? I thought you said Andrews behavior didn't rise to the level of misconduct?"

He shrugged. "In my opinion it doesn't. But it can't come as a surprise to you that Malfoy doesn't take well to being ignored."

"And you aren't going to back him up? Because that doesn't sound like you."

"I think he's being a little dramatic, and I certainly won't contradict his complaint. But I feel like some of it has to do with the fact that he simply doesn't like to be second-guessed and in my mind that's not enough reason to file a complaint, and I told him as much. As I have on more than one occasion."

That made Hermione laugh out loud.

"I'm also endeavoring not to burn my bridges here before I've even built them," Harry continued, which made her frown.

"What does that mean?"

He shrugged. "I might have to work with Andrews, and Andrews' mates, for a long time in the future. I don't want to spoil that over one afternoon's frustration."

"I still don't understand what you mean."

"What do you mean, what do I mean?"

"You said 'a long time in the future.' You're only for here six months."

He stood up straight, took a step back from her, and looked at her like she'd just struck him. "And then, what, Hermione, I just leave you?"

"Oh, no! No. I guess when I dared to think about it, I assumed I'd eventually go home with you. I'm the one who left, after all."

"Is that what you want?"

She hesitated. "I ran from you once. I shouldn't expect you to be the one to turn your life upside down to stay here with me."

"You didn't ask me to. I quite like it here. I realized that while I was back in London. Nobody here cares who I am. It's quite refreshing. I can do my job, be how I am, be _just_ who I am."

"You've been all over the place, surely you've experienced that before."

"Yes, but nowhere else I've been had anything quite so enticing as you are."

"Harry-"

"No," he held up a hand and stepped back into her arms, "stop, we'll work through it. It _is_ too soon to decide this. I merely meant that I didn't want to damage my professional prospects here before they'd even started. Andrews is very popular."

"I have no idea why," she murmured against his neck.

She felt him shake his head. "You do too," he countered.

She huffed. "Fine, I'm not blind, but I've never been tempted."

Harry laughed. "He's charming, good looking, and generally good at his job."

Hermione pulled away and glared at him. "Shut up right now. You have no reason to be jealous."

He just smirked at her. "I'm not jealous."

"Sure you're not," she laughed she pressed on his chest. "Now go do your job and stop distracting me."

He gave her a little salute, leaned in for one more kiss, snagged his snitch out of the air without even needing to look for it, and practically skipped out of her office.

 **Author's Note: I haven't forgotten this fic! Thank you for your patience in waiting for updates, y'all are awesome! And, as always, thanks for reading!**


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

Harry agonized over his first date with Hermione, and thanks to the work he had to make up due to his impromptu trip to England he had a week and a half to do so. He asked just about everybody he came in contact with for recommendations before finally realizing that unless he came up with the idea himself, he wasn't going to be happy with it.

This was really the first, first date he'd ever planned and he hoped (was counting on) that it would also be the last. And he wanted to prove to himself that he could do this boyfriend thing which was a role he had to admit he had neglected in the past. It wasn't entirely his fault he and Ginny had been so young when they'd gotten together but he still felt guilty about it.

She'd spent the first year of their relationship at Hogwarts so it had been all about stealing a few hours away together when she was home or at Hogsmeade, not planning romantic dates. After that they'd both been so busy they'd just fallen into a routine, and then a rut. He refused to let that happen with Hermione, he wanted to be sure she understood how much she meant to him, that she was worth the effort.

His first thought was a fancy dinner but while he wanted the date to be special and memorable, he also wanted it to be 'them' and fine dining didn't really seem like the thing. After conducting an amount of research that Hermione would have been proud of, what he came up with was rather unconventional. He nervously asked her if she minded spending her whole Saturday with him and she'd just smiled at him and said she hadn't planned on spending it with anybody else.

But he was still very nervous when he arrived at her building Saturday morning clutching a bouquet of sunflowers. He had been chagrined to realize he really had no idea what kind of flowers Hermione preferred, but the bright petals had caught his eyes and he felt like they would fit well in her cozy flat. It was definitely better than showing up empty handed.

She buzzed him up, he trotted up the stairs and her door flew open before he could even raise his fist to knock. There she was, beaming smile on her face, eyes alight with curiosity and just like that his nerves melted away.

"Morning!" She chirped. "Will you tell me where we're going now, pleeeease?"

Harry just laughed and shook his head, he was having far too much fun keeping this secret. Hermione was positively radiant when she was trying to figure something out. She'd been guessing for days, ever since he instructed her how to dress: comfortably, casually, in something she could easily move, no dresses or skirts.

Of course she had followed his instructions to the tee. She was wearing flat sandals which only served to remind Harry just how petite she was, striped shorts and a pretty lace top held up by a series of complicated looking straps. Harry absently wondered if they would make it difficult to get the shirt off of her. He quickly pushed that thought away before she could read it in his expression, she was uncannily good at that.

"I want to see your face when we get there," he explained.

She pretended to pout and her eyes fell to the flowers in his hand. "Are those for me?"

He pulled a face. "Ooops, I didn't mean for you to see those," he hid them behind his back, "they're actually for the witch I'm taking out later."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Well that's too bad, I love sunflowers."

He grinned, unable to keep up the act. "I'm glad, I wasn't sure what you liked," he extended them for her to take. "They reminded me of you."

"Thank you," she responded, her voice very soft.

He gave her a questioning look.

"It's just that I've always felt that, they're so warm it just makes me happy to look at them. So the fact that you say they remind you of me, well that means a lot." She looked away from him, obviously embarrassed.

"That sounds like a perfect description, actually."

A blush blossomed on her cheeks and she flicked her eyes in his direction but still didn't look directly at him. "My family took a trip to Italy, it was our last one before I left for Hogwarts actually and so my parents wanted it to be really special. We took two whole weeks and rented a car and drove from Venice to Rome. I'll never forget the sunflower fields in Tuscany." She shook herself, as if emerging from a trance, smiled and waved him inside, "let me just put these in water and we can go."

"That sounds like a really nice memory," he encouraged, he knew how difficult it was for her to think of her parents and this was one of the few times he'd heard her speak of them without any melancholy since she'd altered their memories and sent them to Australia.

"It is."

"So are sunflowers your favorites then?" He asked following her into her kitchen.

"Umm," She went up on her toes and felt around for the vase he could spot perched on the back of the top of the fridge. "Probably not my favorite but they're up there, yeah."

He approached her, holding her gaze with a smirk and easily retrieved the vase.

"It's not my fault I'm short!" She protested his mocking expression.

"Are you a witch or what?"

She put her hands on her hips and glared at him. "I don't feel the need to fish my wand out for every little thing, and obviously neither do you!"

"True, but I'm not vertically challenged."

"Oh shut up," she snatched the vase from him and went to fill it- she used the faucet and not her wand. Despite his teasing it was something he actually really admired about her, that he knew she would never take her magic for granted, they both knew what it was like to live without it and she'd never allow herself to rest on her laurels.

"So what is?" He prompted.

"What is what?"

"Your favorite flower?"

She shot him a knowing look, "you're not being particularly subtle right now."

"I'm not trying to be subtle," he shrugged, "I want to make sure I get you things that you actually like. And I know you well enough to know that you'd rather me just be honest about that and not play games."

She nodded and bit her lip, obviously giving it some serious thought- as she did everything. "Peonies, maybe, but they have a very short season," she finally answered. "I also love tulips and roses- but the wild kind that look like they belong in a garden rather than a florist shop."

Harry nodded and made a mental note to figure out what the hell a peony was.

She arranged the flowers on the table next to the sofa and then approached him, looping her arms around his neck. "Thank you, that was very thoughtful."

"Try not to sound so surprised."

"Well, I am talking to the boy who thought it was a good idea to tell a girl he was interrupting their date to come and meet me- and on Valentine's Day nonetheless."

"Not. A. Boy. Anymore." He said, punctuating each word with a kiss, and then leaned in for one more long, slow one.

"No, definitely not a boy," she agreed when they parted as she ran a hand up his chest.

He shivered at the sensation. "I could easily stay here with you like this all day, but I did want to take you out."

"Hmmm," she playfully nipped at his jaw. "And I've waited too long not to find out what you have planned."

He gave her one more quick kiss and then he took her hand and led her towards the door. "You look beautiful, by the way."

"Thanks," she looked down at herself. "It's nothing special, but I'm nothing if not good at following instructions."

"I think you're better at giving instructions," he countered.

She gave him a sly smile and peered at him out of the corner of her eye.

He turned his words over in his head and snickered- flirting with Hermione was fun. "Get your mind out of the gutter Miss Granger. I didn't mean it like that, though that is something I'm prepared to find out about."

"Play your cards right, and you just might," she said lightly, gathering her keys and mobile and depositing them in her purse, then extending her hand for him again.

"And just for the record, you're beautiful when you dress up too, but I think I prefer you like this. My Hermione has always been a little more casual."

"Your Hermione?"

"Yeah you know, the girl with the ink stained hands." He brought their joined hands up to inspect, hers were perfectly clean. "I miss those by the way."

She snorted. "Sorry but you're out of luck there, do you know how relieved I was when I realized the American wizarding community had embraced the fact that quills had gone the way of the dark ages and I was free to use a pen without getting sneered at?"

He laughed. "Speaking of quills, I also kind of miss the way you'd stick them in your hair and then forget about them. And your hair too, all wild from being cooped up in the potions classroom over a steaming cauldron."

"This is not a flattering picture you're painting."

He shook his head. "No, it was great. You were so comfortable with yourself, and with me. It was, it is...real."

"I hate to break it to you Harry, but I was an extremely self conscious teenager."

Harry considered that. "I guess I see what you mean, and I know it didn't help that you were best friends with two totally clueless boys. But that makes it more amazing because you didn't let it stop you, you didn't back down or ever lose sight of what was important to you."

She pulled him to a halt on the sidewalk and went up on her toes to give him a kiss. "Thank you, I think you're biased, but I appreciate it."

"I am biased, that doesn't mean I'm wrong."

"It's seems like maybe you've been thinking about this? About Hogwarts?"

He nodded. "In light of this," he gestured between the two of them, "I'm seeing things with new eyes."

"Just don't think it to death, it won't do you any good, believe me I know."

"Oh don't worry, I'm too happy right now to let anything get me down," he said nonchalantly as he hailed a cab.

After they climbed in and Harry gave the cabbie the address (Hermione frowned and mouthed it back to herself and he could tell she was furiously trying to work out their destination) she turned back to him. "And you're really one to be commenting on somebody else's hair!" She said with faux indignation.

He laughed. "Don't I know it."

"Our poor kids don't stand a chance." There was a beat of silence and her eyes went wide. "Harry-"

He simply placed an arm around her and kissed her temple.

"Do you want kids?" She eventually asked.

"Yes, of course, you know that."

She shrugged. "I know that you _did_ but priorities change. You have a busy career now, you travel a lot, I just wasn't sure."

"Having a family is still the most important thing to me."

"Okay." She let out a long sigh. "I want that too."

"Okay then, we agree." She snuggled into him and he didn't feel like anything more needed to be said, at least for the time being.

When they arrived at their destination Hermione just peered at the building, brow furrowed, once again she was obviously furiously trying to figure out what was going on. He chuckled to himself, paid the fare and led her out of the cab.

"Alright Harry, you've had your fun, tell me where we are. I assume you haven't brought me to the FedEx Store." She gestured to the shop on the corner.

"No," he snickered and directed her to a much larger sign she had apparently ignored.

She wrinkled her nose but she didn't appear upset, just confused. "Trampolines?"

"Have you ever heard of a trampoline park?"

She shook her head.

"I hadn't either, but I was looking for something different for us to do and I just came across this. It's exactly what it sounds like, actually. I have two activities planned for today, this one is a little more for me and the one this afternoon is a little more for you, but they're both things I think we'll enjoy together."

"Well, I'm definitely intrigued," she hedged.

"I know how you feel about flying but you once told me that the swings were your favorite as a kid."

"You remember that?"

"Yeah," he shrugged. "Maybe because I thought it was kind of ironic, or just because you were the only one I ever really talked about muggle stuff with. I thought it only appropriate that I bring you somewhere completely muggle. I mean, can you even imagine trying to explain a trampoline to Ron?"

"Oh Merlin, no!" She giggled, "he'd probably think we were making it up."

"Anyway, this is kind of part-swinging, part-flying but without that whole having to trust a pesky enchanted piece of wood, thing, which I know is what really scares you. And honestly, it just sounded like fun."

She finally turned her eyes from the sign and looked at him. "You gave this considerable thought."

He shrugged again, he was beginning to feel very uncertain.

"Thank you Harry," she kissed his cheek and then she started to grin. "And you're right, this totally sounds like fun."

"Awesome, lets go."

She stopped him before he could walk away and wrapped her arms around his neck, then brushed her nose against his. Harry was surprised by her rather brazen actions, at least considering that they were in the middle of public. "So do you want to tell me what we're doing this afternoon?" She murmured.

"Oh Mione," he sighed, sinking into her embrace and running his hands from her hips to her waist, letting her think she'd hooked him.

"Yes?"

He suddenly pulled back and shot her a wicked smirk. "Nice try." Then he grabbed her hand and dragged her towards the entrance.

 **Author's Note: Alpha love to Weestarmeggie, I don't know how I would do this without having her as a sounding board! Thanks for reading!**


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

Hermione bounced _out_ of the trampoline park. She would have felt foolish about her exuberance under normal circumstances. However, the pleased, adoring smile Harry gave her at the sight of her excitement kept her from becoming self conscious. She couldn't remember the last time she'd felt so carefree. And even if she hadn't had such a wonderful time, she was absolutely touched by how much thought Harry had obviously put into their date, and she suspected she would still be feeling over the moon.

"Are you going to tell me where we're going now?" She clasped his hand in both of hers and grinned up at him when they stepped into the August sun.

"Sure," he paused dramatically. "Lunch."

"Harreeeeeee," she whined.

He smiled back at her but rolled his eyes. "That's not going to work."

"Why not?"

"Because you're actually adorable when you don't know something or you aren't getting your way. Why would I want to ruin that by telling you what you want to know?"

"Adorable," she huffed.

"Yep," he dropped her hands and wrapped an arm around her, pulling her all the way against his side. She reciprocated by putting one of hers around his waist. "It's just a couple of blocks to an apparition point."

"So a partially muggle, partially magical day then?"

"Yes. It seemed right, it's how we both live our lives."

"You've gotten mighty thoughtful in your old age."

"I suppose it would be rude to point out that you are actually almost a year older than me," he retorted with a wink.

"Yes it would," she sniffed.

He chuckled and kissed the top of her head.

"Hey, I had a thought," she said after a few moments of ambling along together.

He snorted. "Shocking."

"My life is about to become about ignoring half of the things you say to me, isn't it? You smart arse."

"And that's different than it's always been...how?"

"Seriously though. I noticed you took your glasses off at the park."

"I didn't really have a choice, I couldn't do the charm to keep them on because it would look suspicious."

She nodded. "That's what I assumed, but it made me wonder if you'd ever considered getting contacts."

"Actually yes. They suggested it as soon as I started training with Magical Interpol, but I had a terrible allergic reaction to the things," he shuddered. "They couldn't figure out the problem for days and it was terribly uncomfortable. Not an experience I care to repeat."

Hermione winced. Anything Harry described as 'terribly uncomfortable' would probably have anybody else writhing on the floor in agony. She raised her free hand to his face. "I actually like the glasses, they are very 'Harry' but I just thought it might be safer to get rid of them given your job."

He nodded. "I even looked into that muggle laser surgery but the healers were wary about having me try it because of the lingering dark magic surrounding my scar, so I gave up on the idea."

She stopped dead in her tracks. "What?! The lingering what? Harry please tell me he's not-"

"Oh, oh no! Not like that, sweetheart. He's gone, I swear it."

"Then I don't understand."

"The piece of him is out of me, and he's gone for good. But the magic that did this," he brushed a finger over his forehead, "was the darkest imaginable, and that can't just be erased." He lowered his voice. "You know that."

She pressed a hand to her sternum where she had her own curse scar. "You're right, I do."

"I never apologized for that," he cleared his throat, "I am very sorry that happened to you. Especially because you tried to warn me."

"Oh Harry, I never blamed you."

"But-"

"No, please don't. We were outmaneuvered and then overpowered. We did the best we could and you acted as you did because you have such a big heart. If I could bring Sirius back I would, but I wouldn't change anything else. My place was at your side, it still is. I never regretted it. And anyway I'm fine."

"But you might not have been. I don't know what I would have done then. I strongly suspect Voldemort would be ruling magical Britain, maybe even all of Europe. And I would definitely be dead."

"But I _was_ ," she said with emphasis. "Harry?"

"Yes?"

"We have a lot of history between us, but with that comes a lot of baggage too. Do you think we will be able to work through that?"

"Yes," he responded without hesitation.

"What about things at home. Ron seems to have taken things well but I don't think all of the Weasleys will, and they're your family."

"You're my family too. They'll get used to it."

"But they are going to be angry with me."

"They don't have a right to be angry with you for what's happening between us. But yes, a lot of people at home are angry with you. I'm not the only one you left behind."

She sighed. "I owe them an apology, and some form of explanation."

He cleared his throat. "You should come home with me for Christmas."

"Like, both of us, together?"

"Why not? We've already told Ron about our relationship, he's not going to hide it from his family or our mutual friends. And that's months from now anyway. Also, I want to spend Christmas with you. You can stay with me or get a hotel. We can decide what we feel is appropriate closer to the time," he cajoled.

Hermione considered that. She missed home. She missed the people. She missed London at Christmas time. She loved New York, but it was different. "Okay," she answered softly. "I think I'd like that."

"Good, me too."

She leaned heavily into his side as they continued to stroll towards the apparition point, arms still around each other. "Do you think that maybe Ron would like to come visit, maybe bring Lavender with him?"

Harry seemed to give this some real thought. "He's not much of a traveler, you know that. But Lavender would probably jump all over the opportunity to come here and shop."

"I thought you said she'd grown up."

"She has," he shrugged, "but she's still the same person."

"Fair enough, and that makes sense. I don't think I would mind doing that with her. I actually think even the old Lavender and I would get along better these days- I took myself too seriously at Hogwarts and I wasn't always fair to her because of it.

He just squeezed her in response.

"But what about Ron? I know it's probably a lot to ask for him to come here, but when we go home we're going to be surrounded by other people. I'd like some time with just us. I miss him, and I'd like to show him what I've been up to."

"I don't know how he'll respond, but I do think he'd really like to hear you say that."

She sucked in a breath. "I should call him."

"It would be a good start. And for the record I'd love for him to come for a visit too, but I'm not sure how prepared he is to actually come face to face with this," he hugged her to him demonstratively.

"It can't hurt to ask though, right?"

He gave her a sidelong glance as they continued to make their way down the street before he finally nodded.

After a casual lunch of burgers and shakes on the steps of the New York Public Library which was absolutely perfect because she was physically exhausted and happy to indulge, Harry turned to her and smiled, but his eyes were guarded.

"So, this is actually our next stop."

She twisted in place to look at the building behind them. "The library?"

He nodded. "This is kind of embarrassing," he ran a hand through his hair. "I came here, that first day after I arrived and approached you in your office. I came here and I thought of you, and I called Andromeda and we talked about you."

"Why? I mean other than how abominably I behaved?"

"You were surprised," he shrugged. "Anyway, I think I was unconsciously seeking out a place that made me think of you. I wondered if you had ever been here, I thought that you would probably like it." He looked at her sheepishly. "I did some research before I came to New York."

She clutched at her chest theatrically. "Well, be still my beating heart." She smiled. "Seriously though, what are we doing here?"

"I was looking into getting us a tour of the stacks."

She gasped, those were rare. She'd never had the opportunity to take one and she wouldn't have thought he would have even known to ask about it.

"I asked around at work to see if anybody knew anybody who could get me in. I discovered something I never expected. It turns out there's an entire magical collection."

She just sat their gaping at him. "What!" She practically screeched, she lowered her voice when she realized she was drawing attention to them. "The closest magical library other than the archives at the MACUSA is supposed to be in Boston! And that one is hard enough to get into! I can't imagine, if I didn't even _know_ about this how difficult it must be to access."

He shrugged. "Not so difficult."

"Harry, what did you do?"

"Are you actually telling me you don't want a tour?"

"Harry, what did you do?" She repeated.

He shrugged. "My name is not totally without influence on this side of the Atlantic."

"Harry," she breathed, she knew how much he hated throwing his reputation around. "What did you have to promise them to get us in?"

He shrugged. "Honestly I just had to agree to come along with you. The librarian is actually great, we got to talking and he was obviously anxious to see some works from the Potter collection and from what I inherited from Sirius. I was happy to volunteer them. At this point he feels like he owes me a favor," he chuckled. "And he's practically salivating to meet you."

"Harry."

"You keep saying my name, I'm starting to get nervous."

"I'm just...I can't believe you did this for me."

"As long as you enjoy it, it will have been totally worth it."

"What time is our appointment?"

"In about five minutes."

"Merlin," she reached over and placed a hand on his knee. "I would totally make out with you on these steps right now but I'm afraid we might lose track of time and this might be a one time opportunity. I have the rest of my life to kiss you."

"Make out?" He snickered.

"That's what you picked out of that statement?"

"Your vocabulary has become all Americanized. It hasn't stopped being weird."

She shrugged. "Leah always made fun of me when I said 'snog.' She said it sounded unpleasant."

That made him laugh. "You can call it whatever you like." He wrapped an arm around her.

Several hours later and Hermione bounced even more enthusiastically out of the library than she had the trampoline park. She had hit it off with the reference librarian for the magical collection, Orin Manning, and he had basically issued a standing invitation to visit any time.

"That was fantastic Harry, wasn't that so interesting?"

"It really was."

She grinned at him. "I can't thank you enough. And this could do so much for my research!" She wrapped her arms around his waist as they walked. "I know why it's necessary to keep the magical world a secret, but magicals should really learn the value of sharing knowledge amongst ourselves."

"Still haven't made any headway getting an invitation to the Library at Alexandria?" He guessed knowingly, well aware of her long held desire to spend some time in that ancient house of knowledge.

"No," she pouted.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart, but I don't think my influence extends that far."

"Oh that's not what I meant. I'd never ask that of you."

"I'd give it to you if it was within my power."

"Harry," she breathed, tilting her chin up for a kiss.

"I didn't make plans for dinner," he confessed after a few minutes of just companionably strolling down the sidewalk. "I wasn't sure how tired we'd be after everything."

"Are you ready to go home?" She wondered.

"No, I want to stay with you. I was just letting you know, and that I understand if you are."

"I want to stay with you too. I have a couple of ideas."

"Shoot."

"We can get take away, or there's a really great Italian place not far from my apartment."

"Italian sounds great," he raised their joined hands and kissed the heel of her palm.

So she took him to the little trattoria she loved enough that they recognized her and always asked if she wanted 'her usual.' And she was very pleased to share it with him.

"Would you like to come in for a minute?" She asked him when he had walked her back to her door.

"Very much."

They were barely inside before he'd grasped her hips and pinned her against the wall next to her front door. He didn't kiss her at first, just held her there as they both breathed heavily, staring at each other.

"Thank you for a perfect day Harry," she eventually managed.

He grinned and then he gave her another long, slow kiss, like he had at the beginning of their date. "It was my pleasure, in more ways than one."

His gaze suddenly shifted and his hands meandered up her sides, tracing her curves, to her shoulders, until he was cupping them both and tracing circles on them with his thumbs.

"So soft," he muttered, dipping his head and flicking his tongue against her exposed skin.

Hermione felt like she's just received an electric shock. She jumped and he raised his face to hers. "I'm sorry, should I stop?"

"Oh, please no."

He reared back in surprise, but then he smirked. "Good," he began laving kisses over her shoulder and up her neck, "because I want to taste you everywhere."

She let her head fall back against the wall and felt him work two fingers under the straps of her shirt opposite to where he was using his mouth to make her virtually melt.

"This is very pretty, but I have to confess I've been wondering all day if it would be hard to get off of you. These things look so complicated," he tugged at the straps demonstratively.

She opened heavy eyelids to see him looking at her intensely, his pupils blown wide. "Would you like to find out?" She asked, far more boldly than she'd ever been with any other man.

He swallowed. "That's not what I meant, I don't expect-"

"I'm offering."

"In that case, very much so. If you're sure."

She kept eye contact as she crossed her arms over her chest, reaching for the hem of her top, and then pulled it up and over her head.

He just stared and let out several long, slow breaths. "Okay. Okay. We're not doing this against a wall." He tugged on her hand and led her into her living room, helping her lay down on the couch. He had placed one knee between her legs and appeared ready to crawl on top of her when she stopped him.

"Ah-ah," she wagged a finger at him, "tit for tat," she traced a finger from his navel to his sternum and then began trying to pull his shirt over his head.

He grinned at her and quickly rid himself of it and then leaned down to kiss her again while she dragged her hands from his abdomen to his shoulders and then into his hair.

"Have we lost our minds?" He asked her once her hair had been pulled from its top-knot, both of their lips were thoroughly swollen and she was only in her knickers and he, his boxers.

"Possibly," she admitted, even as she continued to kiss him, nipping at his lips and delving her tongue into his mouth while her hands roamed his body, uninhibited.

"Bed?"

"Hmmm?" She wondered, punch drunk on pleasure.

"Sweetheart, if we're doing this, we're doing it in a bed," Harry clarified.

"Oh, yes, okay, you know where it is."

That made him laugh. He helped her up off the sofa and then surrounded her body with his own from behind as he steered them towards her bedroom. When they reached it they managed to- somewhat gracefully- fall onto her bed and then- much less gracefully- shimmy out of their underwear. Hermione laughed out loud when Harry tripped while attempting to step out of his boxers. He just grinned at her and cocked his head in question.

She arched her back and spread her legs, a clear invitation for him to return to his place between them.

"Hi," he murmured against her lips once he had done so. "We still good?"

"So good," her breath hitched as he nudged her entrance.

He eased in and she sucked in a breath, astonished by the feeling, more than she had been even her first time.

"Hermione," he called as he progressed and her eyes flew to his.

"Yeah?"

"Am I hurting you?"

"What? No, of course not."

He let out a long breath. "Well thank all the gods for that. But then breathe, please."

"Sorry, you feel really good, I was a little overwhelmed," she looked up at him with tears in her eyes.

He smiled softly but his eyes remained intense. "I'm happy to hear that because I think you might be a goddamn miracle."

She gasped as he filled her over and over. She shifted to accommodate him and he nearly fell on top of her in pleasure.

"Sorry sweetheart," he murmured as he caught himself on the mattress.

She barely heard him. "Oh Merlin, Harry, more please."

"As you wish," he nuzzled her cheek and then continued to move within her, carefully picking up his pace. With an expression of sheer determination she planted her feet on the mattress and tried to concentrate on the feel of him: his breath on her neck, the muscles of his shoulders and back flexing beneath her hands, his length working her over so perfectly; all in order to keep herself from becoming overwhelmed.

She wanted to memorize every moment of this experience with Harry. They might do this thousands of times over, but this first time would never be repeated.

She was surprised- and somewhat disappointed- by how quickly she built up to her climax.

"Oh," she gasped as the fingers of one of his hands danced up her side.

"I want to know every single thing about you," he murmured into her ear as he flicked his thumb over one nipple and rolled his hips just right. She cried out and automatically crushed him against her as she felt his own release echo her own.

"I love you," she whispered as she felt a cleansing spell wash over her after a few minutes of catching their breath. She looked up at him and gave him a grateful if sloppy kiss on his chest as he rearranged her heavy limbs so that she was draped against his side.

"And I, you."

 **Author's Note: Take their time indeed...oops. ;) Thank you to Weestarmeggie for all the things.**


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

Harry lay holding Hermione the next morning, quietly panicking. It wasn't even properly morning yet. It was what everybody else would call the middle of the night, but she'd shifted in her sleep and he'd woken up like a shot.

He couldn't believe what had happened the evening before. And he certainly wasn't sure _how_ it had happened. One moment he'd been admiring her shoulders- just her shoulders, for Merlin's sake- and the next...

He and Hermione had slept together. Actually, if any experience could ever be termed as such- they'd made love. It had been beautiful. But it hadn't remotely been part of the plan.

Still, he couldn't help but stroke from the crook of her knee where one of her legs was thrown over his, up and over her hip, waist, the curve of her breast, and back down again. Over and over.

"What's wrong?" She croaked.

He nearly jumped out of his skin in surprise. He was very good at his job and it had been a long time since he'd truly been startled. And this witch was literally laying draped across his chest.

"Nothing."

"Don't lie to me," she covered his wandering hand with hers, "while this feels wonderful, you're all tense and twitchy. So what's wrong?"

"Experience has taught me not to trust it when things seem to be going too well. I did not plan for this," he ran his hand up her bare back, "in fact I specifically remember that we planned to take our time."

She shifted so that she could prop her chin on his chest and look up at him. "Since when have our plans ever survived past the first phase?"

That made him chuckle.

"Regrets?" She asked.

"None at all," he answered automatically. "I'm borrowing trouble, aren't I?"

"That's usually my job," she smiled at him, "it's actually kind of a refreshing change." She sat up and threw a leg over his hips until she was straddling him, pressing their naked bodies together. "Allow me to distract you," she smirked and pressed her mouth against his.

When he woke again at a more reasonable hour he was alone, but there was music filtering into the room from the living area. He looked around until he spotted his boxers, hopped out of bed, and pulled them on and went in search of Hermione.

He found her in her pint-sized kitchen, standing at the counter, chopping something. She swung her hips to the music and softly sang along. He leaned against the door jamb and just watched her.

She was wearing some very short lounge shorts which were almost hidden beneath an oversized tee-shirt. Her hair was piled on top of her head, but much of it had escaped the clip that was meant to hold it in place. It was adorable and domestic. It was the easiest thing in the world to admit to himself that he wanted to wake up to this kind of thing forever.

"I know you're there," she called, briefly glancing over her shoulder at him.

He pushed away from the doorframe and moved to wrap his arms around her waist. "I'm a highly trained operative, I think that maybe I should be worried you noticed me so easily."

"I've always been very aware of you, it's not a commentary on your considerable skills." She didn't turn to look at him again but he saw her lips curl into a smirk.

"This is true," he kissed her neck. "What are you doing?" He watched as she cut the top off of a strawberry, sliced it into thirds, and then tossed it into a bowl which already contained an assortment of other berries.

"It would be disingenuous of me to say that I'm cooking breakfast. I'm toasting bagels and cutting up fruit. We could go out for something more substantial, but I kind of fancied staying in," she twisted her neck to kiss his jaw.

"Staying in sounds perfect."

Her breath hitched when the song changed and she dropped the knife and spun in his arms. "I love this song!" She grasped his hands and began pulling him around the kitchen along to the music, occasionally ducking under his arms and spinning herself around until he caught on and began to participate. She grinned up at him, her head whipping from side to side with joy, and sang along. "All I needed was the love you gave, all I needed for another day, and all I ever knew, only you." Harry wondered how he'd never known that she had a lovely voice.

When the song changed again to something a little softer and slower she wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Morning," he whispered, brushing a kiss against her temple.

"Morning," she responded, then bit her lip and flushed in a way he was beginning to recognize and _love_ , "you're not wearing a shirt, I could totally get used to that." She allowed her hands to drift back and forth across his shoulders and he shivered.

"I will gladly allow you to get used to it."

They moved together and he snuck his hands under her shirt and up over the curve of her waist.

"My parents used to do this sometimes. It's one of my earliest memories," she said suddenly.

"What's that?"

"Dance around the kitchen together. They cooked together almost every night. Neither one of them were exactly great cooks, nor was it their favorite thing to do, so I think splitting the responsibility made it less of a chore."

"That seems like a good idea."

"Mmm-hmmm. Anyway, sometimes they would listen to music and dance. I thought it was terribly romantic." She met his eyes. "Turns out it totally is."

"That sounds nice," answered Harry, aware that for the second time in just twenty-four hours she was opening up to him about her parents.

"It was. They're a good team. I always admired that about them. It's something I always wanted for myself too." She peered up at him shyly. "I don't think it's a coincidence at all that I fell in love with my best friend."

"I'm sorry that they're not part of your life anymore."

She shrugged, he was certain she attempting to demonstrate more nonchalance than she actually felt. "It's their choice. I write them regularly. I'm not even sure if they read my letters but if they do they know what's going on in my life, and that they are welcome in it any time."

"Still, I can't help but feel that it's my fault."

She shook her head vigorously. "I'm the one who used my magic on them and sent them away."

"But if you hadn't been my best friend…"

"What then? What could I have done differently?"

"You could have gone into hiding with them, you wouldn't have had to alter their memories."

"Give me more credit than that Harry Potter!" She poked him viciously. "Even if we hadn't been friends, don't you think I would have wanted to stay and fight for what was right?"

Harry almost reared back at the surprise of that assertion. "Of course, that's just the kind of person that you are."

She shook her head at him. "You've always done that. The whole war wasn't about you, you know. You have to stop shouldering that guilt. Your parents joined the Order long before they knew you were the child of prophecy. 'Born to those who have thrice defied him.'" She reminded him. "They fought Voldemort because he was evil and he wanted to turn the magical world into a foul place, the prophecy just made things more horrific."

He could only stare at her. "You're right. I knew that, of course, but I've never thought about it like that before."

"I have great admiration for you parents. And not just because they're responsible for you, though they did good there," she winked at him.

"Thanks," he kissed her forehead.

"Anyway, it pisses me right off that I'll never get to meet them."

"I'll be eternally grateful that Mum kept journals. Sometimes I think she knew."

"Knew?"

"That something was going to happen to her, or at least that she wasn't going to live to a ripe old age. I don't know, sometimes they just read like something she was recording for posterity instead of a personal journal. It's only after she and my dad got together that they get more intimate, thankfully not _too_ intimate," he hastened to add and she laughed. "I know you don't really believe in that kind of thing."

"I'm dubious of premonitions, but I absolutely believe in intuition, Harry," she said softly, rubbing his arm. "Especially in your mother's case. She entered this whole new world where there was a war on the horizon. I know exactly how that feels. I can imagine that, at the very least, she wanted a private place to gather her thoughts."

"Is that why you kept journals?" He asked her pointedly, hoping he wasn't overstepping.

She looked up at him in surprise. "You knew about that?"

"Not for sure until we were alone in the tent. Though sometimes I'd noticed you scribbling in a little book during the summers. I assume you kept them in your dorm at Hogwarts?"

"Yeah, there are people that would have bothered me about them so I just kept them to myself. But I knew that you wouldn't, plus there was so much going on in your head, I honestly didn't even think you would notice."

"And by people, you mean Ron."

She blushed. "I love him, but you know how he is, he never would have let it go. He would have teased me or tried to get me to let him read what I was writing. It would have been a thing."

"He doesn't like feeling left out," Harry agreed. "Just so you know, I never stopped noticing you, Hermione. Not even in the tent, I just didn't know what to do."

"Me either, that's why I spent so much time writing and reading that stupid book."

They were quiet for a few minutes just holding each other and swaying to the music when Harry had a thought.

"Hermione?"

"Hmmm," she let out a contented little noise as a response, not even lifting her head from his shoulder.

"Would you like to read Mum's journals?"

That got her attention, her head shot up, eyes wide. "You would share them with me?"

"Why not?" He asked, trying to sound casual even as he realized he really, really wanted her to say yes.

"It's just that you have so little of your parents, I wouldn't want to intrude on that. I mean, have you shown them to anybody else?"

Harry shook his head. It was becoming increasingly apparent that he had never invested himself in Ginny the way that she deserved. He'd never considered allowing her to look at his mother's journals. He'd had them for over a year before he'd even told her they existed.

Hermione, on the other hand, had been there when he'd discovered them inside the Potter vaults at Gringotts. At the time it had felt like the most natural thing in the world to ask his best friend to help him catalogue and organize his vaults in the aftermath of the war. It hadn't occurred to him to include his girlfriend. And, in fact, even in the years since, Ginny had never stepped foot in them.

He shook off his thoughts. He could castigate himself for the past later. Hermione deserved his full attention in the present.

"I'd like you to read them. To meet my mum, as it is," he answered, hoping that his wandering thoughts hadn't caused her to think he was doubting what he said.

She cupped his jaw, caressed his cheek until he leaned into her hand. "Well if you're sure, I'd be honoured."

"I am. If they'd lived you would have known her for years now. I'm sure she would have loved you, I think you could have been close."

"Really?"

There was a longing in her voice that touched Harry.

"Well yeah, you kind of remind me of each other. Not in a weird way, just that you're both smart and brave and incredibly driven. Both muggleborns, and she wasn't crazy about flying either."

"Well that's just good sense," Hermione answered primly.

He laughed. "It makes sense to me that you would have gotten along," he finished.

"I would have liked that. But then again if your parents were alive, we might not be friends."

"What?!"

She winced. "Oh wow, I'm sorry, that was a really selfish and insensitive thing for me to say."

"Hermione, what are you talking about?" He asked, not following her train of thought- which was not particularly unusual, her brain worked at least twice as quickly as his did.

She looked up at him, eyes pleading. "Please know that I want nothing more than for you to have your parents. But if you did, you'd be a different person."

"What do you mean?"

"Well think about it. You would have grown up in the magical world with a different family, I bet you'd even have a sibling or two. And even if Voldemort had still been an issue, you would have had plenty of support. You wouldn't have needed a clueless muggleborn to help you fight him. I just have a hard time imagining us becoming friends in that scenario, if for no other reason than we would have had nothing in common."

He stopped dancing as her words sank in. He cupped her shoulders, holding her in place and looking her directly in the eyes. "No. No, I refuse to believe that."

"It's just true," she shrugged. "The Potters are an old, prominent family. You're already out of my league as it is, in that case I doubt you would have even noticed me."

"Stop talking right now," he ordered, beyond irritated. "First of all, if anybody is out of their league here, it's me. Second, have you forgotten that my mum was muggleborn? You don't think she would have encouraged me to reach out to other muggleborns, knowing how overwhelming Hogwarts can be at first? Especially a smart, pretty, fellow Gryffindor."

"You did not think I was pretty when we met," she scoffed.

He considered that. "No, you're right, but only because I hadn't started to notice that kind of thing _at all_." He lifted her into his arms and placed her on the countertop, stepping between her legs. "But Mum would have noticed, and Dad too I'm sure. He seems to have had pretty good taste in women. So I'm sure that when I introduced my parents to my best friend, because Hermione," he nuzzled her neck, "I refuse to believe that there is any universe where you wouldn't be my best friend. The very thought that you couldn't be hurts," he took her hand and placed it over his heart.

"Harry."

"No, let me finish. So when they met you, they would have understood what a stunning woman you'd become. And frankly, sweetheart, your looks are the least impressive things about you. But anyway, after a year or two, when I did finally start noticing girls, I bet they would have helped me pull my head out of my arse and see that the very best thing that would ever happen to me was right in front of me. Convinced me that I'd be a fool to waste my time on anybody else."

"Harry," she sniffled.

"I bet I'd still be shite with crying girls, though."

She laughed.

"Do you believe me?"

"Yeah."

"Good, because I'd hate to go all scary auror on you."

She pulled back to look at his face. "There's no universe where I could ever be afraid of you, Harry Potter."

He grinned and snagged the plate of bagels off the counter, offering it to her. She gave him a watery smile and took the one with a generous schmear of cream cheese on it. He noticed that she'd known to prepare his with butter instead. And quietly thanked all the gods for this woman who knew him so well- from simple preferences to his deepest, darkest secrets, and loved him anyway.

While they munched away in companionable silence Harry caressed Hermione's leg from her knee, up her thigh, under the hem of those tiny little shorts, and back again.

"You like doing that, don't you?" she noted.

"Hmm," he agreed. "Your skin feels amazing."

"Thank you," she popped a blueberry into her mouth, then wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs fully around his waist, pulling him against her body. "I like the way you feel between my legs."

He burst out laughing and her mouth dropped open. "Good to know," he told her when he regained the power of speech. 

"I should be embarrassed, but I'm not. I mean...it's true."

He ran the pad of his thumb across her cheek. "Seriously, that's really, really good to know."

"Do you have anywhere to be today?" She asked, biting her lip.

"No, I had hoped to find an excuse to spend the day with you."

She wrinkled her nose and did a little shimmy in his arms. "No need for excuses. Take me back to bed?"

"Oh absolutely."

 **Author's Note: Hello lovely people, welcome to day two of my personal little Thanksgiving week celebration! I anticipate posting at least one more chapter of this particular story this week, I hope you enjoy. If there are any 'Fringe' fans out there you can thank that awesome show and John Noble's brilliance for the fact that "Only You" is on my writing playlist and inspired this little dance scene. Thank you guys for reading!**


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21- Three Months Later

Hermione stood in the lobby of the international portkey office clutching Harry's hand and bouncing nervously on the balls of her feet as she strained to see if she could spot a familiar head of red hair. It had taken them months- beginning with tentative letters and phone conversations- to convince Ron to come and visit. Hermione didn't blame him, but it made her all the more anxious for his arrival.

When he appeared he looked a little green around the gills (portkeys were the worst, in Hermione's opinion, but Ron had refused to get on an airplane) whereas Lavender was bouncing at his side looking fresh as a daisy with not a hair out of place. Hermione was terribly jealous.

When Ron looked up and spotted them he stopped in his tracks while Lavender bolted to them, embracing Hermione and then Harry, thanking them for the portkey and chattering about how excited she was to be here. Hermione vaguely acknowledged to herself that she was actually really happy to see the other witch. But most of her focus was on Ron.

She automatically lurched forward but then halted in place. His eyes met her and his mouth curved into a lopsided smile; he opened his arms. She flew to him and wrapped her arms around his neck, he lifted her off her feet and swung her gently back and forth.

"I missed you so much," she sobbed into his neck.

"I missed you too," he answered with a suspicious sniff. "Don't you dare disappear on me again."

"No, never, I promise."

They held each other for a long time before Lavender piped up. "What do you think Harry, should we be worried?" Her voice was light and joking and it startled a laugh out of them all. Ron gave her one last squeeze and set her back on her feet.

He looked her up and down. "You look good Mione."

"Thanks, so do you." He looked older, more mature. He'd grown into his lanky frame and finally appeared comfortable in his own skin.

"Good? She looks fabulous Ron. She's practically glowing! I love your outfit, you'll have to show me where you got it!"

Hermione glanced at Lavender and laughed. "That can be arranged. And thank you. I was actually just thinking how jealous I was of how great you look. I'm a mess when I travel."

"I try," she tossed her hair playfully over her shoulder.

"Why do witches always do this mutual admiration thing?" Ron wondered.

"Well _somebody_ has to appreciate our efforts, Merlin knows you boys don't," Lavender retorted.

"We do too!" Harry protested, "we just don't know how to talk about girl stuff. If we say something wrong we never hear the end of it, or worse, we hurt your feelings and that's just dangerous."

Ron nodded sagely and clapped Harry on the shoulder in solidarity. Hermione had been looking between her three friends, her heart full, but that that particular sight something shifted within her, and all became right in her world again. She burst into tears.

Almost instantly Harry's arms were around her. He was whispering soothing nonsense into her ear and repeatedly brushing his lips against her temple. When she calmed down she gathered herself and turned in his embrace to face their friends. "I'm sorry you two, you'd think I wasn't happy to see you."

Lavender shook her head. "No, I get it, there's something about seeing the three of you together again that has even me all choked up."

Ron, meanwhile, was staring at her and Harry like he'd never seen them before, and Hermione instinctively sensed that until this moment he hadn't truly accepted that they were together. She decided to give him some time to process that idea and turned her attention to something that could only make them all happy: about a month ago Ron had proposed and Hermione had surprised even herself by how excited she was for them both. Though she thought that Lavender's plan for a New Year's Eve wedding was a little crazy.

"Okay, Lavender, let me see the ring!"

The other witch grinned and held up her left hand, flashing it around to show off the diamond adorning her ring finger. Hermione stepped away from Harry and took her hand to study it closely. "Oh this is gorgeous!" She gushed, it was a princess cut diamond solitaire set in a diamond studded band, simpler than she had expected, but truly beautiful. It suited Lavender and Hermione could tell that she loved it.

"Thank you!"

"Isn't this beautiful, Harry?" She asked, holding out Lavender's hand for him to see.

He looked and then his eyes shifted and he met Hermione's. "Beautiful," he held her gaze for a long beat and then he turned to Lavender. "Congratulations, again. I'm very happy for you both."

"Thank you, Harry."

Hermione looked at Ron, "you did well, I'm impressed."

"Always the tone of surprise," he griped, but he winked at her.

"He had help," Lavender explained in a stage whisper.

"Oh?"

"Pav and Fleur."

Hermione giggled. "Merlin, I would have loved to be a fly on the wall for that."

"Hey!" He objected, "Parvati is Lav's best friend, and she's always saying that Fleur is the most elegant witch she knows. I thought it was a good idea."

"No, you're right Ronald. That was excellent thinking and the three of you obviously got it right. It's just that I'm having a hard time picturing it."

"Victoire tagged along too," Lavender chimed in, "she's the sweetest thing. She was so excited to tell me how she helped pick my ring and to be flower girl."

Guilt bubbled in Hermione's stomach. Victoire was three and a half, but Hermione hadn't seen her since she was a baby.

"That reminds me," Lavender continued, drawing Hermione from her thoughts. She reached into her handbag and removed a cheerfully wrapped present.

Hermione gazed at it in surprise. "Lavender, you didn't have to bring me anything. You came here because we asked you to, that was plenty gift enough."

She waved her off. "It's nothing big, and all the other girls got one, I didn't want you to be left out."

Hermione frowned at that statement, but Lavender nudged it into her hands insistently. So, she tore through the ribbon and wrapping paper- which she passed to Harry who took it with a raised eyebrow, but said nothing. Inside the box was a pretty little make-up bag decorated with depictions of lavender, and inside that were several high end muggle cosmetics.

"Read the note!" Lavender encouraged.

Hermione looked and sure enough there was a little card tucked into the side of the bag with a touchingly thoughtful note written in Lavender's distinctively loopy script asking Hermione to be an attendant in her wedding.

"The make-up is in the wedding's color palette, but I made sure to choose different things for each of you so that it would suit your individual coloring."

Hermione bit her lip, this was so 'Lavender.' There was a time when she would have found it silly. Now she was having trouble holding back tears- again.

"Are you sure?" What she wasn't saying was that attending the wedding was going to be uncomfortable enough. But Ginny was another of the bridesmaids and she didn't want to ruing the atmosphere.

"Of course! I would have asked you when Ron asked Harry to be his best man, but presentation is everything," she flourished her hand dramatically. "You're Ron's best friend and we were roommates all those years. It's only right."

"Please Hermione."

She cut her eyes to Ron to see him looking surprisingly serious and utterly sincere.

"Well, yes, okay then, if you're really sure."

Lavender clapped her hands. "Good. And I already ordered you a dress, anyway, so you really couldn't say no."

"You ordered me a dress?"

"Oh please," Lavender waved her off, "how many times have I seen you naked? I was more than able to approximate your measurements. They will all have to be altered anyway."

"What?!" Harry and Ron shouted in tandem and Lavender shot her a sly wink.

Then she took her arm and leaned in to speak directly into her ear. "Men are so predictable, sometimes you just have to toy with them to keep things interesting."

"Oh, we are going to have fun this week," Hermione laughed. She led them towards the exit with Harry and Ron trailing behind them, having what they probably thought was a quiet conversation.

Some things never changed.

"So I saw that look you exchanged with Harry earlier," Lavender whispered.

"What?"

"When you were looking at my engagement ring, the way that you looked at each other."

"What way?"

Lavender rolled her eyes. "Like you'd both like nothing more than for him to put one on your finger."

Hermione furtively looked over her shoulder but her boys were still very much involved in their conversation.

"It's too soon," she whispered.

"Is that how you really feel?" She lightly- and Hermione could only assume unconsciously- brushed her free hand across her shoulder and clavicle where she'd nearly been mauled to death by Greyback during the Battle of Hogwarts. "Or do you think other people will think that it's too soon? Because life is short."

Hermione just ducked her head.

Lavender squeezed her arm. "I'll do my best to warm Ron up to the idea. But don't you dare talk yourself out of it."

000000000

"So, how long until you propose?"

Harry nearly spit out his beer.

"Because after all of this," Ron continued, "if you don't plan to marry her, I'm going to have to kick your arse. Twice. Once for Ginny and once for Hermione. Plus Lav seems pretty convinced that you're all set to do it, so, you know..."

Harry could only stare at his best friend, dumbfounded. They'd left their witches lounging on the bed he'd come to regard as his and Hermione's, painting their nails and watching some movie about a prostitute that was supposedly _romantic_. Hermione was never going to stop surprising him.

He had offered Ron and Lavender the hotel room he still technically occupied, but hadn't slept in for at least a month, but they'd insisted they were comfortable sleeping in Hermione's living room. In the day since they'd arrived Harry had essentially been kicked out of the bedroom and the two former roommates were thick as thieves. He had not anticipated that.

He sighed and reached into the mokeskin pouch he obsessively wore around his neck and removed the jewelry box he'd asked Malfoy to retrieve from the goblins when he'd returned to England for a few days a couple of weeks ago to attend to some of his House business. He flipped it open and showed it to Ron.

The other wizard's eyebrows flew up his forehead. "That looks like an heirloom."

Harry laughed. "It is, but not a Potter family heirloom, it was my mother's."

"I don't understand."

"Apparently something my mum liked to do with her mother was go antiquing."

"Antiquing?"

"It's basically shopping for old stuff."

Ron looked at him like he was crazy.

"I know how it sounds, but trust me, it's a thing. Anyway, when my parents started dating, she took my dad, and she saw this ring and fell in love with it. But he pretended he didn't like it to throw her off the trail."

"But he went back and got it," Ron surmised.

Harry nodded. "Mum wrote about it in her journals and Hermione thinks it's a great story. I think the ring suits her and I just want her to have it."

"Merlin," Ron breathed, taking several long swallows of ale. "Ginny never stood a chance, did she?"

"Why do you say that?" He asked, fiddling with his glass on the bartop to avoid looking at his friend.

"You didn't give Gin your Mum's ring, Harry," Ron answered in a low voice.

"It wasn't- I didn't mean to-"

"I know you didn't," Ron interrupted, "that's the most annoying part. I can't even get properly mad at you."

Harry swallowed, having no idea how to respond to that.

"I've talked about it with Lavender, since you told me about you and Hermione. She thinks you're destined or some such rot."

Harry waited patiently for his friend to finish his thoughts. He'd learned it was best to let him get it all out.

"And I think I knew it too. But I thought me and Hermione, you and Gin, that just seemed perfect y'know?"

Harry nodded. As a concept, it had been.

"But then me and Hermione," he raked a hand through his hair, "I mean no offense to Mione-"

"Oh Merlin, Ron, I was there, the two of you were a disaster! You were incompatible, at least in that way, it's not a judgement on either of you."

"But you and Gin seemed to work? At least it seemed like you did. "

"We weren't so incompatible as…lukewarm."

"Ouch, okay, wow." Ron drained the last of his own pint and signaled for another round.

Harry sighed. "We both deserved better than that. But I am sorry that I hurt her."

"But you and Hermione are not lukewarm?"

Harry raised an eyebrow at him. "Do you really want to know the answer to that question?"

"No, I guess not. It's just that you were alone together all that time on the Horcrux hunt," he let the question hang in the air.

"Nothing happened," Harry answered immediately, even as he was beginning to resent his friend's probing questions. Some of them were expected, understandable even, but he was sick of rehashing this ancient history. "I've never lied to you about that. There were a few times when one of us would crawl into bed with the other because we were miserable and desperate and damn near hopeless. But I'm not sure we would have been inclined towards anything else even if we hadn't both felt like we'd pledged ourselves elsewhere. It was just a terrible time."

"So what changed?"

"I grew up. I experienced life without her in it. I realized she was everything all along."

Ron stared at him for a long time. "It's that simple?"

"It's that simple."

Ron took several deep breaths before raising his glass in Harry's direction. "Well in that case, I suppose you have my permission to marry our best friend."

"Thanks, mate," Harry let out a sigh of relief and clapped his friend's shoulder.

"But please don't ever tell her that I said that."

"Brilliant, but scary," Harry agreed.

 **Author's Note: Day four! Happy Thanksgiving! Whether you celebrate or not, I'm thankful for you all! Stay tuned for Ron and Hermione's heart to heart. Rings are on my Pinterest. Seriously, so thankful for you all :)**


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22

Hermione was awoken in the middle of the night when Harry gently shook her and murmured something about needing to go take care of a few things. She tossed and turned for a few minutes until she decided to get up and make sure Harry hadn't disturbed their guests.

But when she padded into the living room she found Ron sitting up on the transfigured sofa watching the television on a low volume, all alone.

"Hey," she said, barely above a whisper, "where's Lavender?"

He shot her a small but genuine smile. "She went with Harry."

"What?" Hermione had just assumed that whatever Harry had gone out to do had something to do with his job. In his line of work it wasn't at all uncommon, and that was the reason she hadn't questioned him when he left.

Ron simply shrugged. But he couldn't hide the way he averted his eyes ever so slightly and he didn't fool her.

"Really?" She snorted.

He just shrugged again.

"So, you know, or at least you have some idea what they're up to, but you're not going to tell me?" She guessed.

"Pretty much."

"Well, since I'm pretty sure that I can trust that your fiancee and my boyfriend…" she trailed off and Ron raised his head.

"Is it weird to call him that?"

"Very," she nodded, "it doesn't seem like nearly enough," she added quietly. "We should talk, huh?" She asked when she saw the way he was regarding her with wide eyes.

"Yeah, I think that would be good," he patted the place next to him on the bed.

She hesitated, thinking that they might need to have this conversation on more neutral ground. "Would you like some hot cocoa, and maybe a snack?"

His expression morphed from something resembling slight nervousness into a sly grin. "Trying to butter me up, Granger?"

"I'd just like something sweet, Weasley," she responded, smiling to herself as she turned her back on him knowing that, if nothing else, his stomach would make him follow her.

In the kitchen she began removing ingredients from the fridge and cabinets, both of which were much better stocked since Harry essentially came to live with her. Bread, milk, two different kinds of cheese, butter, a tin of cocoa, and a bag of mini marshmallows.

He watched her, openly curious. "You learned to cook? Without burning the house down?"

"I can manage a grilled cheese," she demurred, refusing to rise to his bait and just pulling out a pan with a fond glance at the grocery list Harry had neatly taped to the fridge for them both to add to.

This was only one of a thousand reasons she and Ron never could have made a relationship work long term. She found what she considered to be his antiquated views about gender roles insulting, and he was threatened by her unwillingness to adhere to said gender roles. But there was no reason to fight about that now.

"Is cheddar okay with you?"

He nodded. "What's the white one?"

"Oh- um, it's Harvati. I like the two of them together. I can make mine first and you can try it if you like."

"Thanks, anything I can do to help?"

She turned and gave him a small smile. "If you could slice up the cheese that would be great."

They worked in companionable silence for a few minutes. She buttered the bread and put the milk in a saucepan to heat up. When she went to begin assembling the sandwiches she glanced over to see a veritable mountain of cheese on the cutting board in front of Ron. She burst out laughing.

"Ronald! We're not feeding an army!"

"You're feeding _me_ ," he winked at her.

She chuckled and went up on her toes to kiss his cheek. "Fair enough."

When she was through grilling the sandwich just the way she liked it, she cut it and put one half on a plate for Ron who didn't bother to wait for it to cool, but he didn't so much as flinch as bit into it and chewed. In fact, his eyes lit up.

"Merlin, Mione, this is amazing!"

"Told you. So, I'll make two more?"

"I suppose I can limit myself to two."

She rolled her eyes.

"How did you come up with this?"

"Actually, it was Harry," she explained as she put the second sandwich in the skillet.

"Harry?"

"Grilled cheese is my comfort food, but he said that I was being very boring about it." Hermione smiled to herself. Harry told her that he loved her often enough, but his primary means of expressing his emotions was still through actions. Little things like ensuring there was always a pot of coffee brewing first thing in the morning, new books she'd wanted would just appear in her briefcase or on her desk before she had the opportunity to purchase them for herself, and she was convinced that if he ever decided to quit this auror gig he was so good at that he would be a phenomenal massage therapist.

So, he'd undertaken the mission to figure out the perfect sandwich to make for her with all the gravity of an auror mission and dragged her to markets all over the city. It was adorable.

"It's even better with a little tomato, some bacon…" She told Ron.

"Witch! Why are you holding out on me?!"

She chuckled. "Sorry, we're out. Probably best to stick to something simpler at," she looked at the clock, "Two AM, anyway."

There was a beat of silence.

"So you really love him, huh?"

Hermione glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. There was something between them tonight, something she'd felt many times before, though it felt like a lifetime ago since she'd last experienced it. Times when it had been just the two of them, Harry having isolated himself, and they were desperate to just hold things together and make it through one more day. It was a feeling which had once made her think that she could make Ron the center of her world.

Now she recognized it for what it was: deep, abiding, and hard fought for friendship. He was not meant to be the man she came home to at the end of the day. Still, what they had was infinitely precious and she could only be totally honest with him.

"I love him so much that sometimes I think I might burst with it."

He exhaled sharply and ran a hand through his hair. "It's always been like that, hasn't it?"

She shrugged. "Yes and no, it's evolved over the years."

"You would have followed him anywhere, you _did_." His words were matter of fact. "You never hid it, I was always so afraid of being left out and left behind."

"Me too," she responded quietly.

He looked completely taken aback. "What?"

"I was necessary. I was the planner. I felt like a tool. Whereas you and Harry were friends simply because you wanted to be. I was completely convinced there would come a day when you wouldn't need a bossy little witch around anymore and I would lose you both."

"Hermione," he gasped.

"I know better now," she assured him, "you've both shown me in your own ways that I'm not replaceable. You were just immature teenage boys and I was an insecure teenage girl, and there was a lot the three of us failed to say to each other."

"Is that why you left?"

"There were a lot of reasons. But yes, I think it felt easier for me to remove myself from the equation than stick around and wait for the day when I was shunted aside."

"Because of Ginny?"

"Yes, and because I assumed I would be a threat to any witch you were with. And I don't regret moving here, I love my life. But I deeply regret the way I closed myself off from all of you."

"Harry's a broody bastard," Ron said, apropos of nothing.

"What?" she let out a startled laugh. "I mean I'm aware, but where did that come from?"

"It's just that you were always better at handling him when he got like that. There's been a few times over the past few years I really could have used your help," he nudged her.

"I'm sorry."

"Well, he's your problem now."

She turned off the burner and turned to wrap her arms around him. "I'll take care of him. But you know that you aren't replaceable to us either, right?"

"Yeah," he answered gruffly.

They held each other for a long time.

"Hey, Hermione?"

"Yeah?"

"When he asks don't hesitate to tell him 'yes.'"

Her heart felt like it skipped a beat. "What?"

"Don't play dumb, it doesn't suit you."

"No- I, you just surprised me. And of course my answer will be 'yes.'"

"Good, because seriously, he's such a broody bastard."

0000000000

Harry hadn't been able to sleep, even with Hermione curled up against him, her breathing deep and even, which was usually like a lullaby to him. His conversation with Ron earlier that evening had been a push he hadn't known he'd needed and he didn't want to wait another minute to make Hermione his in every way that he could.

At which thought a plan started to form in his head. It was probably crazy. But he wasn't a Gryffindor for nothing. But he did at least realize that he should probably get another witch's opinion, especially considering the circumstances. So he carefully crawled out of bed and went to talk to Lavender.

It was only when she squealed like a schoolgirl (literally, he remembered what Lavender's shrieks of excitement had sounded like at Hogwarts) and then informed him very seriously that they had to get up and start making 'preliminary arrangements' immediately that he realized he was probably in way over his head. But he decided to trust her and let her drag him out of the flat with strict instructions to Ron not to breathe a word.

He arrived back at Hermione's flat- home- just before eight AM, exhausted but far too amped up to sleep, even if he had the time. He spoke briefly with Ron, giving him an update and then he crept into the bedroom.

Hermione was curled up in bed, hugging his pillow. When he'd left she'd been wearing her own pajamas but now she seemed to have donned one of his older Weasley jumpers. He perched himself on the edge of the mattress and poked her. She slowly opened her eyes.

"Hey you."

"Hey, did you do...whatever it was that you needed to do?"

"I did," he tugged on the sleeve of the jumper she was wearing. "This is mine."

She shrugged. "Ron and I had an early morning snack, I spilled cocoa on my pajamas and this is soft and smells like you. Do you mind?"

"Of course not. It looks way better on you anyway."

She bit her lip. "Thank you." She stretched her arms out for him. "I missed you, I don't sleep well alone anymore."

He pulled her into a hug. "I'm sorry sweetheart, I promise it was for a good reason, though."

"Hmmm, I know, you would never leave me without a good reason."

"Come for a walk with me?"

"A walk? Harry it's early, and we have guests."

"Our guests are having breakfast elsewhere, and there's something I want to show you."

She frowned but nodded and climbed out of bed. Harry's mouth went dry, because what he hadn't realized was that she appeared to be wearing _only_ his jumper.

"Are we going any place special, what should I wear?" She looked back at him and her eyes went wide. "Harry James, if you keep looking at me like that we will not be leaving this bedroom for the foreseeable future."

He looked away from her quickly, as appealing as that sounded, he had plans. "Whatever is comfortable, we really are just going for a walk," he told her.

She nodded and began ruffling through her drawers. He actually had to close his eyes at the sight of the lace knickers which were all she was wearing under his jumper. When they'd first gotten together he had been surprised to discover that Hermione had something of a thing for fancy underwear. She was generally so practical. But she had pointed out to him that if she was going to indulge a little, it only made sense that it would be in something that would be resting against her skin all day long.

And if she purchased a few things just for them to enjoy together, well, he wasn't fool enough to complain about that. He gripped the edge of the mattress to prevent himself from reaching from her.

When she had gotten herself ready to go- in her usual expeditious fashion- he took her hand and led her to the front door. She stopped him and pulled him in for a long, slow kiss.

"Good morning."

"Morning," he grinned.

"Okay, show me what you're up to."

He led her on a meandering route through her neighborhood. They got coffee from the shop they preferred before he brought her to the destination he had in mind. He brought her to a halt on the sidewalk in front of the property he'd been contemplating for weeks. He turned her so that she was facing the dilapidated brownstone, her back against his chest, and he wrapped his arms around her waist.

"So, here's what I've been thinking," he murmured into her ear.

"Yeah?"

"I know you love this neighborhood. And your flat is great, but it's a little small. I mean it's pretty perfect for just us, but I think we're probably about to be flooded with visitors. And I'd like to put down some roots here. And this place is a mess, but this way we could really make it our own, you know?"

"Harry-"

"There's a garden in the back, it's big enough that we could get a dog. I've always wanted a dog."

Her breath caught and she gripped his arms. "So, you want to buy a house?"

"Amongst other things," he urged her to turn in his arms so that she was facing him. "It seems like the smallest of the things, really."

"What does that mean?"

"I hate calling you my girlfriend, it just seems so insufficient."

She laughed. "I said almost exactly the same thing to Ron earlier."

His lips twitched. He knew that he and Hermione were very different people, but they prioritized each other, and it continued to shock him how often they were on exactly the same page.

"I wish there was a word for what you are to me, maybe you can help me come up with one." He placed his forehead against hers. "But until then I was hoping you would consent to a few new titles."

She let out a shuddering breath. "What would those be?"

He gathered himself. "My wife," he took a deep breath as her eyes filled with tears. "My life partner. My Lady. The mother of my children. The guardian of my most cherished dreams."

"Oh," she choked.

"And I'd also like if you'd take one back."

"What's that?"

"My best friend- always, always my best friend."

She closed her eyes and visibly gathered herself before she answered. "Yes. Always yes. Forever yes."

He crushed her against his chest. The just held each other as his heart slowed and she began to chuckle.

"What's so funny?"

"Harry, please tell me you didn't find a way to buy this house overnight."

"No," he laughed in return, "I was actually starting plans to get married this weekend, Lavender was very enthusiastic about the idea. I've been calling in favors I didn't even know I was owed."

"What?" She blinked at him. "What, I mean what? This weekend?"

"We don't have to, obviously. But we'll be with our friends and you've told me more than once that you weren't keen on a big production of a wedding. And I don't want to wait. I want to build a life with you, and I want it to start as soon as possible."

She looked at him, studied him, like he'd seen her examine a text many times, trying to make sure she fully understood its meaning, and he knew he'd either gotten it completely right, or absolutely wrong.

"Let's do it."

 **Author's Note: Merry Christmas! Even if you don't celebrate I sincerely hope you're able to enjoy a day away from the grind. Thank you so much for reading and my best to you all!**


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23

She was nervously smoothing her wrinkle-less gown when a voice came from behind her.

"Wow."

She turned around to face her best friend who was staring at her with the most peculiar look on his face, like he couldn't quite believe what he was seeing.

"Did you forget that I'm a girl again, Ronald?" She laughed.

"If I had any remaining doubts, the way that you look right now would have erased them forever," he quipped right back. "You look so beautiful, Harry's a lucky bloke."

"I'm lucky," she answered softly, "but thank you."

"It's just that the sight of you in a wedding dress is a little weird."

"It feels a little weird," she echoed, "but also pretty."

Hermione hadn't really been the sort of girl to dream about her wedding day. It had just never really entered her radar except for some vague idea that once she met a special someone, she'd like to find a way to celebrate, and she'd assumed that would be a wedding, which seemed nice.

Until some of her friends had started getting married, and she was exposed to the realities of planning an extravagant wedding. At which point she had decided that she would probably never want to put herself through that.

When she and Harry became a couple, and it became apparent that it was only a matter of time before they became engaged, she began to dread the prospect of the kind of wedding that would be expected from somebody of Harry's fame, wealth, and status. The kind of wedding he had been planning with Ginny.

So, it was the easiest thing in the world to agree when he said he wanted to get married right away and with only a few friends in attendance. She was resigned to finding a simple gown off the rack. But it was amazing what money, magic, and a few determined witches could accomplish.

Lavender, Astoria, and Astoria's sister, Daphne, who was also visiting for Thanksgiving, were determined to figure out what her perfect wedding gown looked like, and get it for her. She and Leah had basically just been along for the ride. It had ended up being a fun journey.

She'd chosen a simple, long sleeved, off the shoulder white gown with a short train. In lieu of a veil she wore a flower in her hair: one perfect white lily. Her only jewelry were the pearl drop earrings she'd inherited from her grandmother Granger, and Harry's mother's ring: her engagement ring. She was barefoot given that the wedding was taking place on the beach. It was perfect.

"You should," Ron assured her, "you're more than pretty."

"Thank you. Are they ready for us?"

"Yeah."

She took a deep breath.

"Any doubts?" He asked. "Because I could totally get us out of here." She knew he was joking, but also that he'd whisk her away with a mere word, it was an incredibly selfless offer.

She smiled at him but laughed it off. "Lavender would never forgive you."

"You're right, she's more excited about this than she is our wedding, I think. She thinks it's the most romantic thing she's ever heard that Harry just can't wait to marry you."

"Sorry about that."

"Are you kidding?" He lowered his voice to a stage whisper. "This week has been the most peace I've had since I proposed. She's been so busy planning your wedding, I haven't heard a peep about mine. It's been heaven." He lowered his voice further. "I can't have another conversation about place settings Hermione, I just can't."

She chuckled and picked up her bouquet of lilies and roses from the dresser. Ron offered her his arm and they headed down the stairs of the house on the Gulf Coast of Florida which the group of friends had rented for the long weekend. Before they could step outside he stopped her, covering her hand resting on his arm with his.

"I just wanted to say before we go out there, that I know I agreed to give you away. But I'm not _giving you away."_

She frowned. "I don't understand."

He gave her hand a squeeze. "Just that this doesn't change anything for me. You'll always be my best friend, and I'll always be here for you."

"Oh Ron," she whispered and wrapped her arms around his neck. "You're going to make me cry before we even get started."

He patted her awkwardly. "Don't do that, if I bring you to Harry crying he might try to hurt me."

That startled a laugh out of her.

"Alright, let's get this show on the road." He nodded and they made their way down the beach towards the gentle surf and the group of people standing there waiting for them.

But everything else melted away when she met Harry's eyes. They had foregone the muggle tradition of not seeing each other on the day of the wedding and she'd spent the night before in his arms. However, he'd left her in the early morning hours so they could both get ready and it was now dusk.

It seemed like it had been a long time. She felt like a silly girl, and well…a bride.

When they reached Harry, Ron kissed her forehead and then moved to Harry's side, taking his place as Best Man. And then those gorgeous green eyes were searching hers, his lips smiling and then forming the words: 'you're so beautiful.'

'So are you,' Hermione mouthed back. Harry was dressed in a simple, but new, muggle suit, the sight of which had always driven her wild. Her soon-to-be-husband was fit, and there was something about the contrast between his usual casual attire and a starched suit which was particularly appealing to her.

They joined hands and she couldn't have wiped the grin off of her face if she tried.

Vows weren't strictly necessary for a magical wedding, all that was required was a binding and a blessing of magic, but Harry and Hermione both agreed that they wanted to say something to each other. And so after the officiant's formal greeting they began.

"I'm glad I'm going first," Harry started. "Because I'm sure you have some eloquent speech planned and I'd hate to have to follow that up."

Everybody in attendance chuckled.

"I had some idea of what I wanted to say, but honestly Hermione, I'm a little overwhelmed right now, and I can't seem to remember any of it. But I don't know why I'm surprised, this definitely isn't the first time you've overwhelmed me." He licked his lips. "All I can think to do right now is just talk to you, I hope that's okay?"

It was instinctual for her to reach up and touch his cheek in reassurance.

He took a deep breath and met her eyes again. "We've never talked about this so I don't know if you remember, but it was sixth year and we were not getting along at all. I think at any given point you were about three seconds from putting a piercing charm through my heart. We were always sniping at each other and it wasn't anything different on this particular day, but I was just at the end of my rope and I snapped. I said some very unkind things to you in front of the entire common room and then I stormed out."

Hermione just nodded. She most certainly did remember that day, but she couldn't possibly understand why he'd be telling this story now. She was even more confused to see his lips quirk into a small smile at her acknowledgement.

"And then you came after me, of course you did. Part of me was so ready to have it out with you, and another part thought I should just let you hex me, but I figured either way that it shouldn't be in a corridor, so I ducked into an empty classroom. And when I turned around and saw you, I knew you were furious, but I'd never seen anything like that before. You pulled out your wand, but you didn't point it at me, You transfigured a desk into a sofa and you ordered me to sit down. By then you were crying, so I was absolutely not going to argue with you."

She huffed out a little breath but nodded again.

"Then you crawled onto my lap, and you put your arms around me, and you said: 'I won't tell you that everything is going to be okay, because I can't promise you that. But whatever happens, I'll be here with you.' And I was just so blown away by that, even though you had already given me plenty of evidence that it was true, even though I knew you were angry with me and probably hated me a little bit, I could still tell how much you cared for me. I broke down and you sat with me all afternoon, missed all of your classes to comfort me. And you were there beside me for everything that came after: 'You're not alone, Harry; we're in this together; I'll go with you," he reminded her of the various things she'd said to him over the years.

He reached up and gently wiped her cheeks and only then did she realize that Harry looked all blurry because she had been crying.

"I'll never deserve you, could never deserve the kind of love and devotion you've so freely offered me. And I can't promise you that everything will be okay, that there won't be hard times, but whatever happens, I'll be here with you. And I'll do my best to make sure we have more good times than bad, and that you never doubt my love for you. It's- I'm sorry sweetheart, but I just don't have the words to express how immense it is."

He raised their joined hands and kissed her knuckles. She let out a choked sob and reached behind her blindly towards her Maid of Honor. Leah took the hint and pressed the handkerchief and the piece of parchment she'd had wrapped around the bottom of her bouquet into her hand and gave her a reassuring squeeze.

Hermione dabbed rather uselessly at her eyes with the handkerchief and looked back at Harry who was smiling gently at her. She brandished the parchment at him.

"I did have a speech." His smile widened. "It's a really good speech, Harry, but I couldn't see to read it now even if I wanted!" She reached into his jacket and tucked the parchment into his breast pocket. "Those words are for you, you can read them later, but now I think I'm just going to talk too."

He nodded encouragingly.

"Do you remember the day I got my first period?"

Harry actually groaned.

She laughed. "I'm not trying to embarass you. I know you thought I was ill. You were so concerned for me. You chased me into that bathroom and I had to spell it out for you. That's probably the most uncomfortable conversation we've ever had, and that's saying something."

He bit his lip against a laugh and narrowed his eyes at her playfully.

"I won't go into details, for both our sakes."

She met his eyes and they both laughed.

"Anyway, you stayed with me and you made me feel safe. You always have Harry, made me feel safe and happy. And you make it so easy to love you. It's never been a burden, it's been a joy and an honor. So, I offer you the same promise you've just offered me: we're in this together. Your happiness is mine. Your disappointments mine. We share a life now, nothing could make me happier but to give you my promise to do my best by you. And most importantly, to love you with all that I have. Wherever you go, I'll go with you."

0000000000

The binding had been blessed. The wedding feast eaten. The cake cut. The toasts given. And then, at Lavender's insistence, Hermione tossed her bouquet even though Lavender and Leah were two of the only single women in attendance. Lavender's single status was a mere technicality at this point, and Leah had absolutely no interest in catching the thing, but Hermione had humored Lavender, and hoped her aim was true. She'd quietly asked Harry for some tips, but he'd pointed out that he was used to catching and not throwing.

When she'd started to feel truly distressed he'd pointed out that she really only needed to glance over her shoulder and make sure it went it the right general direction. Lavender's persistence would do the rest of the work. He hadn't been wrong and Lavender's ecstatic reaction to ending up with it had been worth the small endeavour.

The area set aside for dancing had been largely abandoned except for a few couples; Harry and Hermione in particular, who had barely been out of physical contact since the officiant had blessed their binding. In her new husband's arms it was easy to ignore the antics of some of their more drunken friends down by the water, but Hermione did absently wonder how many people who had intended to just apparate down for the day would end up sleeping on whatever flat surface they could find in their rental house.

She wouldn't begrudge them. She was already blown away that nearly a dozen of their New York friends- on top of those who had already made plans to accompany them to Florida for the holiday- had dropped everything at the drop of a hat on Thanksgiving weekend to come celebrate with them.

"I want you so badly right now," Harry murmured into Hermione's ear. He pulled her closer with the hand that was resting on her back but didn't stop swaying to the music.

Hermione rubbed his chest and nuzzled his jaw. "That's our magic encouraging us to consummate the marriage." It had been building since the binding and Hermione wasn't sure how much longer she could resist the pull.

"You know, normally I would be concerned about being pushed around by my magic, but I can't think of a single thing wrong with wanting to make love to my wife. Plus this feels fantastic and we haven't even gotten to the good part yet."

"Mmmm," she hummed in agreement. It did, it was almost like Harry's magic was seducing her, she could feel it dancing across her skin, caressing her entire body at once, it was probably the most sensual thing she had ever experienced.

"Are you ready to get out of here? Or, rather, just go inside?"

"Yes, I don't think anybody will even notice us leaving."

"Does that bother you?"

"Not at all, they're having fun. And you know I'm not particularly fond of being the center of attention. It was nice today, to have so many people make time and show up for us last minute, but I definitely don't need a big send-off. Especially because all we're doing is walking into the house, and we'll see almost everybody here either tomorrow or next week."

"Alright then, sweetheart," he kissed her neck, "lead the way."

 **Author's Note:** **Well there you go, they're married! I hope you enjoyed it. This fic is wrapping up so if there's anything in particular you'd like to see before it does, let me know (we will be returning to England for a visit before it does, don't worry) Thanks to Weestarmeggie for the beta read. Happy 2020 y'all and thanks for reading!**


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter 24

As he followed his new wife up the stairs Harry decided that every single thing he'd ever been through to get to this moment was worth it. Hermione was exquisite. He knew nothing about fashion but in his mind she made the perfect bride. He also suspected it had little to nothing to do with the dress, but with the way the woman he loved seemed to glow while she was wearing it.

She pulled him into the bedroom and when the door was closed they just grinned at each other.

"So we really did it?" She wondered.

"We did."

"It was kind of perfect."

"It was."

Suddenly, she smirked at him and fell to her knees. He stared at her, his beautiful new wife with the skirt of her wedding gown flared out around her as she made quick work of unfastening his belt. He watched with something like astonishment as she all but yanked his trousers and boxers down his legs. Then, as she always did before she performed this particular act, she nipped and kissed the tattoo that adorned his hip bone, then she quickly moved to take him into her mouth. And as he always did, he gasped.

He gripped the dresser to hold himself up, as the erotic sight of her and feeling of being surrounded by her warm, wet mouth almost had his knees buckling. With his other hand he gently cupped her face. She gazed up at him as she hollowed out her cheeks, and his eyes nearly rolled back in his head, but he couldn't stand to stop watching her.

She smirked at him again, actually managed to smirk around his length and then she suddenly moved her hands, which had been resting almost innocently on his thighs, grabbed his arse and jerked him towards her, taking him as far as she could manage, never breaking eye contact as she did so.

"Oh fuck," he gasped, as she continued to manipulate his movements so that he was fucking her mouth.

When he couldn't stand it any longer he grasped her arms and hauled her to her feet. She came without protest, but she took her time, licking her lips all the while.

"Was that unsatisfactory?" She asked when they were face to face again, her lips were swollen, her eyes danced with mirth, and her hair had begun to tumble out of the fancy up-do she'd had arranged it in for the wedding. But she still stood in front of him in her pristine white gown.

"You know it wasn't," he captured her mouth with his, he wasn't gentle with her, it was a clash of tongues and even teeth as he nipped at those already swollen lips, hoping to make them more red and more swollen. "But I'm not coming for the first time in your mouth, I'm going to make you my wife properly."

"Oh?" He felt her lips quirk against his in amusement. "What's proper?"

"Well, I'd thought I'd bring you up here and make love to you slow and sweet."

"Uh-uh," she contradicted, "I need you hard and fast."

"Okay, then," he agreed, "you riding me hard and fast...with the dress on."

She grinned at him. "You want to debauch me in my virginal white wedding gown, with all of its implications?"

He chuckled and carressed her back, taking note of the line of buttons that ran from between her shoulder blades all the way down to her tailbone. "Unless I completely hallucinated the last ten minutes or so, you're already fairly debauched. But yes, that's the general idea."

"Alright," she stepped out of his arms and held hers open wide, "how would you like me?"

He bit the inside of his cheek and considered her. But it didn't take him long to decide what to do and he knelt to reach under the hem of her gown, up her leg, and to her hip where he caught hold of a piece of lace that he knew he easily could have ripped apart. He moved his hand to cup her core, she spread her legs as far as the confines of her dress would allow and moaned.

"Sweetheart," he muttered, dipping his fingers under the lace and between her folds, "I'm not sure these even count as underwear."

"They were really only meant to be decorative," she shuddered as she spoke, so he caressed her for a moment longer before abruptly yanking the knickers down her legs.

"I hope I haven't ruined your fun," he said as he rose to his feet.

"Not at all. I'll show them to you at another time."

"Brilliant, as always." He finally stepped completely out of his trousers and boxers as she hurriedly unbuttoned his shirt- his jacket had been discarded sometime during the party. When he was completely naked he took her hand and let her to the bed, settling on his back and then crooking a finger in her direction.

She didn't immediately come to him, she allowed her eyes to move up and down his body, an almost feral grin on her face. He just watched her look at him until she lifted her skirts and climbed onto the mattress. She straddled his waist and rubbed herself against him, he closed his eyes, the sensation was almost overwhelming and he wasn't even inside of her yet- he momentarily regretted giving her almost total control.

But she looked so incredibly sexy like this. And then she reached under her dress, took him in hand with a little squeeze and a pump, aligned him with her entrance, and sank down on him. She made this breathy little noise every single time, which was unlike anything Harry had ever heard before, it was his favorite sound in the world.

She hadn't been kidding about wanting it hard and fast, as she almost immediately began pistoning herself on him like she was in some kind of race, she was much rougher on herself than he'd ever dared be with her, no matter how often she assured him that he wouldn't hurt her.

She began clawing at his chest with her eyes screwed shut. Harry looked at her in awe and disbelief, there was something building between them that he couldn't explain, and scared him a little. Their magic crackled around them and he abruptly sat up, wrapping his arms around her.

He managed to undo some of the delicate buttons along her spine, enough so that he could tug the bodice and sleeves down to expose her breasts and pressed them deliciously against his own chest, keeping her pressed tight against him.

Her fingers tunneled into his hair and she tugged it roughly. "Oh God, Harry, so good, but I need…"

"I know sweetheart, it's almost too much, but I've got you, come for me."

00000000000

She awoke to the feel of his mouth on her skin. The hollow of her throat, and then down between her breasts where he spent a few minutes lavishing his attention, after that her belly, hips, and then back up again; his path was slightly different as he ascended. He began with her hip bone, then licked his way over the dip of her waist up to the swell of her breast.

Up and down, he varied his route each time. It was hypnotic, it made her feel worshiped. She couldn't bear to open her eyes and face the real world where more than the two of them existed. She could tell that he was aware she was awake and was indulging her without complaint.

Eventually she blinked her eyes open, the light in the room was low. It was morning, but obviously still very early. Harry's concentration was still on her body so she reached down and cupped his face.

"Good morning you insatiable man."

He didn't lift his head but his eyes darted to hers. "I'm not even remotely sorry." He began to make his way back up her body, pausing to flick his tongue into her belly button, then take each of her nipples into his mouth, and place a kiss over her heart. He moved from her side to settle between her legs, she gladly spread them to accommodate him, until he was hovering over her and they were nose to nose.

"You married me," he whispered with a sort of reverence that had her breath catching in her throat.

After a moment, once she regained her composure, she chuckled, cupping his cheek. "I did do that."

He turned his face and kissed her palm. "You're my wife."

"And you're my husband."

"I kind of can't believe it. I never really thought-"

And through the fog of her arousal Hermione still managed to understand what he was experiencing. With the possible exception of Sirius, she was now the only official family he'd had in living memory (because the Dursleys absolutely did not count.) "We belong to each other now, love. You're my family forever. I very much hope that...one day, there will be more of us."

"Me too." He swallowed. "May I have you again?"

"Yes, of course, please."

"Not too sore?"

If she remembered correctly, this was the third time one of them had woken the other up over the course of the night. They had an active sex life by anybody's imagination. But tonight had pushed the limits.

She stretched and flexed experimentally to make sure that she wasn't lying to him. She was sore, but it wasn't a bad feeling. More like that following a really satisfying workout; moreover, parts of her were alerting her to the fact that she very much wanted him again.

"No," she answered, grasping the back of his neck and pulling him in for a deep kiss.

It was everything she thought Harry had assumed their first time as a married couple would be. Slow and thorough with exchanged whispers of love and commitment, their skin was glistening with sweat by the time Harry placed one of her legs over his shoulder and began to move with greater purpose.

"Are you close?" He asked. "I'd like you with me," he murmured against her neck.

"Now, now," she encouraged him as he went still and she could feel him emptying inside of her while her own body fluttered around him. She cried out at the sensation, he moaned and she suddenly realized his cheeks were wet with tears against the skin of her throat.

He fell to her side but didn't release his hold on her and she reached blindly for her wand, relieved to easily locate it on the bedside table. She felt infinitely grateful for magic at this moment that she could clean them up without having to leave him.

She gave him a few moments. "Hi," she murmured eventually, tilting her chin for a kiss. He obliged.

Five minutes later she pulled away with a chuckle, raking her fingernails through his beard, just as she knew he liked. He turned on his side and propped himself up on his elbow, keeping his other arm wrapped around her waist.

"How are you?" He asked, smiling indulgently at her.

"Pretty perfect, and you?"

"Me too." He pursed his lips. "I think we should look into pursuing sex magic."

Hermione nearly choked on her tongue. "What?!"

His eyes lit up with amusement. "I didn't think you were a prude Ms. Granger."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "I'm not, as you very well know, you just surprised me."

"Did you think that I was?" He challenged.

"Unless it's been some other wizard sneaking into my bedroom and fucking me into the mattress for _months_ polyjuiced as you, then no. I just didn't know what brought that on, or that you had any interest in sex magic."

"I'm afraid you're stuck with me and only me. And it's not something I'd ever consider practicing casually...but with the witch who willingly bound herself to me for the rest of her life? That sounds like an opportunity I don't want to pass up. Not to mention, I know you felt it Hermione."

"Felt what?" She thought she knew what he was trying to say, but she wanted him to explain it.

"Our magic was reaching for more, I've felt it before, but it was especially apparent last night. There's a whole realm beyond what we've ever experienced that we could explore together. There are aspects of our magic that we can only unlock together given the differences in witchcraft and wizardry."

"Harry," she laughed, cupping the back of his neck and bringing him in to press their foreheads together. "You don't actually need to convince me, I was just surprised, but I do trust you absolutely. And," she blew out a large breath, her heart so full that her chest was tight, "that sounds like an amazing adventure for us to take together."

 **Author's Note: Thanks to Weestarmeggie for being an amazing alpha/beta. And to the rest of you for reading, and especially to those of you who chimed in and let me know what you'd like to see for the remainder of this fic. Your input was much appreciated. I hope you enjoy this, as well as the rest of the concluding chapters!**


	25. Chapter 25

Chapter 25

Harry sat back in his desk chair as he took one last look at his copy of the Daily Prophet; the five year old picture of himself and Hermione which had been taken at the ceremony where they'd received their Order of Merlins looked back at him. Their younger selves didn't look any happier than he felt at the moment.

He could only assume that the paper's staff had chosen it because they were all dressed up. He knew they had access to more recent photographs. Ron had been quite literally, and not very artfully, cut out; Harry didn't imagine for a moment that was unintentional.

He chucked the paper at the office door just as Malfoy stepped through it.

"Well, I guess I don't need to ask how you feel about the article."

"How did you _think_ I was going to feel about it?"

Malfoy shrugged. "You had to have known this was coming."

Harry shook his head in frustration. "There wasn't anything for them to write, it was a wedding announcement, the rest of this is speculation."

"Which is why I suggested that you at least throw them a bone and send them a wedding picture to appease them. They went from expecting to be able to cover the wedding of the century between the Boy Who Lived and a quidditch star from a prominent family who is a war heroine in her own right, on the grounds of an estate very few people have stepped foot on in _decades_ \- Merlin, I bet at least one publication was planning a special issue to feature it.

Harry snorted in derision.

"And what they got," Malfoy continued, making his way into their shared office and plopping down in his own desk chair, "was a three sentence statement that you got married a continent away, to a muggleborn witch whose barely been seen in Britain in years, and who they didn't even know you were seeing. And that you did it in front of twenty people, most of whom aren't even British, and none of whom have gone on record about it. Of course they're going to speculate!"

Harry ran his fingers through his hair in exasperation. "The press adores and loathes me in turns. Why should I engage with them? I find my fame obscene, you know that."

"Yeah, but the fact is that you _are_ famous, refusing to acknowledge it isn't going to make it go away. You should at least attempt to control the narrative," Malfoy sat forward, leaning towards him, resting his elbows on his knees, his expression as compassionate as Harry had ever seen it. "Listen, I understand why Weasley didn't comment. He's in a precarious situation, I almost even feel sorry for the git. But why don't you let me and Astoria make a statement? We can gush about the whirlwind courtship of two war heroes who found love together and about how honored we were to witness your nuptials, how gorgeous the bride was, etc, etc. They'll eat it up with a spoon."

Harry snorted. "And it won't do your reputation any harm either."

Malfoy just shrugged.

"I appreciate the offer," he sighed, "and I'll discuss it with Hermione, but the reason we went with such a simple statement in the first place is that we didn't want to rub the Weasleys faces in it. And I think allowing you, of all people, to talk to the press about our wedding would be doing just that."

"Have you heard from Mother Weasley?" Malfoy asked wryly.

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose. He had been uncertain how to relay the news of his marriage to the Weasleys. So Ron, Merlin love him, had volunteered to deliver a letter to his parents as well as an offer to use his mobile if they wanted to actually speak with Harry.

Days later and Harry only knew that they'd read the letter, he hadn't pressed his friend for more information than that. He already felt incredibly guilty about the way he'd placed him in the middle. "No, I'm not sure what I expected, a howler maybe?"

Malfoy snorted.

"Molly has a right to be upset. She's been like a mother to me and she didn't even get to attend my wedding."

"Maybe, but in the end she isn't actually your mother, and it was Hermione's wedding too. And we both know her presence would have made Hermione uncomfortable at her own wedding, no matter what that self-sacrificing little chit might have tried to tell you, and that would have been far more unfair. Not to mention, people elope all the time. Mrs. Weasley will get over it."

"Yes," Harry eyed the other man knowingly, "because your opinion on this issue isn't at all biased."

"I've never pretended Molly Weasley was my favorite person, but that doesn't make me wrong. Speaking of the self-sacrificing little chit, how is she?"

"What?"

"Hermione, how is she after the article?"

"Oh, I assume she's fine."

"You assume?" Malfoy asked pointedly.

Harry shrugged. "I haven't seen her this morning, she had already gone into work when I got up. She left a note, she seemed fine."

"And you didn't even bother to go to her office to check on her?"

"She couldn't be bothered to wake me up, so I assume she doesn't need me."

"Potter, are you kidding me? Your wife was basically just called a gold-digging mudblood whore in a national publication and you're up here pouting because she went into work early?"

Harry's head snapped up. "Watch your mouth," he hissed.

"I was only making a point. Just because they were more polite in how they said it, we both know that's what they meant and so will everybody else who reads it. That-" he pointed to the discarded paper, "was not kind to either of you, but it was much crueler to her."

Harry knew that Malfoy was right, but the fact was that in the four days since they'd returned from Florida he could probably count on one hand the number of hours he'd spent with Hermione, not counting the hours they were asleep. And he was angry, against his will.

He knew that she was swamped at work with some secret project which she wouldn't talk to him about, but surely she could have carved out a little more time for her husband of less than a week, right? It hurt that she hadn't needed him this morning, and a small part of him which wouldn't stop niggling at his brain, wondered if she, in fact, needed him at all. She'd lived without him for years. Perhaps she was regretting their rather impromptu wedding.

And the most annoying part about his whole thought process was that he knew he was probably being unfair. He knew how Hermione was when she got buried in her work and she had been honest with him about how busy she was. He was the one who'd decided to spring a wedding on her, also knowing that there was no time in their immediate future for a honeymoon. But the past few days had brought back all the insecurities of the last couple of years, and knowing better didn't actually make him feel better.

"If you're so concerned about her, why haven't you checked on her?" Harry sniped at Malfoy; it was always better to take his temper out on Malfoy than somebody who wasn't used to it.

"Because a lot of the things that the Prophet so politely talked around, I've said explicitly, to her face, on many occasions, and I thought she might not want a reminder of that today. But since you're being such an idiot I think that I will, she should know that _some people_ care." And with that he jumped up from his desk chair and shot out the door.

"Damn it," Harry muttered and jogged after the man, calling for him to wait. Malfoy glared, but did as he was asked. .

When they reached Hermione's office Malfoy knocked briefly and it was Astoria who called for them to enter. Hermione was standing over her desk, which was covered in piles of papers and she was writing furiously in a muggle notebook. She didn't even look up as they entered. Astoria was seated next to the desk and Harry could tell at first glance that she was exasperated.

"Good morning, Hermione," Malfoy said politely, like she wasn't completely ignoring them.

She still didn't look up. "Hello, is there something that you needed? We're very busy."

"No we're not," Astoria contradicted flatly.

Hermione's head snapped up and she glared at the other witch. "We only have a couple of weeks!"

"I'm aware of that, but unless you have an entirely new theory then we're at a dead end again. Working yourself to death doing the same calculations over and over won't change that. Go home, spend some time with your husband, stop pretending that article didn't hurt your feelings."

"There's got to be a way to make it work, the theory is sound. And I _don't_ care about the article."

"What are you made of stone?" Astoria snorted, "that article was awful."

"I'm used to it, hell everybody in the room is used to being treated like that. It doesn't matter, this matters," she brutally poked her notebook with one finger.

"Fine, but tell them what we're working on," Astoria gestured to himself and Malfoy. "That way at least Harry might stop walking around here looking like somebody kicked his puppy because his brand new wife suddenly disappeared into her work."

"Astoria!" Hermione hissed.

"No Hermione! Look at Harry!" She pointed at him. "I understand that this is a labor of love for you, but you're only doing more harm than good by keeping it from him at this point."

Hermione just continued to glare for a moment, but then her entire face fell and she finally looked at him, her eyes swimming with tears, she brought a trembling hand to her mouth. "Oh!" She gasped.

He just raised an eyebrow at her: hurt, confused, and more than a little annoyed.

"Astoria," Hermione began, Harry recognized the expression on her face as the one she got when she'd just had a breakthrough in her thought process, "we determined that the average patronus isn't magically robust enough. So we need an above average patronus," she recited, she was looking at him but her eyes were far off.

"Not just above average Hermione, the power requirements are impossible," he heard Astoria huff, "why are we still talking about this?"

"Sometimes I've believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast, and the definition of impossibility is literally standing in front of us," Hermione giggled, sounding a little hysterical, her eyes met his. "We were so caught up in the arithmancy, in calculating the power of the caster that we forgot about the nature of patronuses themselves," she said, her eyes never leaving his as she spoke. "Love, if you don't mind, would you introduce Astoria to Prongs?"

Harry rocked back on his heels, a part of him wanting to protest. "Okay," he said finally, finding himself unable to give any other answer, even though part of him wanted to be petulant and argue with her.

Her beaming smile and quiet, "thank you," made it worthwhile.

He pulled out his wand. "Expecto Patronum," he muttered. For a long time this spell had been almost as easy as breathing for him. He just didn't use it regularly because most other wizards couldn't, and it felt like showing off.

Prongs appeared and Hermione's beaming face lit up further.

Astoria's mouth dropped open and she literally fell back into her chair. She stared at him until he became uncomfortable and started to squirm.

"I'm sorry Harry," she jumped up and approached him. "May I?" She asked, extending a hand in Prongs' direction.

"Sure," he shrugged.

She glanced at Hermione and the two exchanged a look that he didn't understand.

"Yes, yes," Malfoy drawled, "this is very impressive. But I can perform the patronus charm too, why are you both looking at him like he's the second coming of Merlin?"

"Because he might be the second coming of Merlin," Astoria answered as she studied Prongs closely.

Hermione chuckled. "He's stupidly powerful, but I'm not sure I'd go that far. He's just always had a special connection with this spell and emotion based magicks in general."

"What could you possibly be thinking about in order to create a patronus like this?" Astoria asked, her eyes still remained unfocused, but as the words left her mouth she colored spectacularly and she looked at him in alarm. "I am so sorry! That was an incredibly personal question which I never should have asked."

Harry shrugged. He still wasn't certain what was happening, but this had gone from angering to amusing him; even if he still had many, many questions. "It's okay. I've been able to perform the spell for so long, I no longer need a specific memory, I just need to focus on a feeling."

Astoria just looked at him incredulously. "Are you even concentrating right now?"

"No, I don't really need to."

She looked at Hermione who was smiling with a mixture of pride and smugness, if Harry was reading her correctly.

"It's not an elegant solution," Hermione answered the other witch. "For future use we will need to re-work the theory, but I think Harry and Prongs could help us take care of the immediate problem, don't you?"

Astoria nodded vigorously and crossed the space between herself and Hermione to embrace her. Harry and Malfoy exchanged an uneasy glance at their witches' emotional display but Harry felt somewhat reassured that the other wizard appeared to be as much in the dark as he was.

"Okay," Astoria eventually said, "I assume you need to talk to Harry, I'm going to take Draco and catch him up on the situation."

Hermione just nodded. Harry didn't look away from her so he only heard the other couple leave.

Hermione took a deep breath and met his eyes. "Good morning, love," she said after the door closed. "I'm sorry I missed you this morning but I thought I had a breakthrough in my research and I wanted to get here as soon as possible. Ironically, what I really needed was sleeping in bed beside me."

"Are you going to tell me what's going on?"

"Yes," she let out a little laugh. "I'm afraid I might have gone about this in the completely wrong way."

"What does that mean?" He prompted her.

"The thing about you, Harry Potter, is that if a person hangs around you long enough, they see so many extraordinary things that they stop noticing how extraordinary they are." She rounded her desk and approached him, holding out a hand towards him, giving him a choice about whether or not to take it.

He didn't hesitate to intertwine their fingers and pulled her against his chest.

"I don't know what that means Hermione, I feel like you're talking in riddles. What have you been working on and what did you need with Prongs?"

"I think he- you- can find the Silent Killer."

Harry's knees buckled. "What?"

"Yeah, it's something I've been working on for months. But it was only a thought at first..and then…"

"And then?" He questioned.

"And then," she looked up at him, her eyes sad and tired, she didn't pull away but dropped her arms, tugged a hair elastic from her wrist, and twisted her curls up on top of her head. "And then I didn't really get anywhere and Halloween and Sahmain came and went and that little girl…"

"Yeah," he sighed, knowing what she meant without needing to hear her say it.

"Yeah," she agreed, "as bad as it was to know what happened to her, watching you sink into such a depression, and especially given your own history with Halloween made it that much worse."

Harry's eyes fell shut. His response to the Silent Killer's latest victim had been troubling even to himself. He'd walked around in a stupor for at least a week.

But of course Hermione understood.

"I didn't want you to get your hopes up," she continued, "if I couldn't find him."

"It would have been enough for me to know that you were trying."

"I wanted to save you for once- not just make you feel better, but actually fix it."

Harry could only stare at her in disbelief. "Are you serious right now?"

She looked at him like he'd lost his mind. "Of course I am."

He just shook his head. "We'll be continuing this conversation later. But for right now, I'm happy to lend you anything I have at my disposal, including Prongs. But how will this help you find the Silent Killer?"

"Well, I started in August with the idea that I could find a way to search for him using his magical signature, given that he'd used the same charm on so many different occasions- it made it easier to build a profile- like DNA for magic.

Harry just nodded. He'd done enough research in muggle forensics- something he felt gave him a leg up in his own profession- to understand what she was saying.

"But it still wasn't enough to find him- tracking spells need a strong tether, you know that and we don't even know who this person is, much less having met him to place it on him."

Harry continued to nod.

"I had nearly given up, but you were so wrecked after Halloween that I couldn't. And that's when I should have told you what I was doing."

"Oh sweetheart," he breathed.

"No-" she interrupted, "I was wrong. Astoria had a point. Maybe at some point I had a good reason for keeping this from you, but particularly in the last week I just didn't want to admit that I might have failed you."

"You could never fail me." He picked her up and carried her to her desk chair and fell into it with her sprawled across his lap. "Tell me the rest."

"That's when I brought Astoria in, instead. She's brilliant, she's not exactly on the books, and I knew she would keep my confidence, if only because she cares about you too."

"Okay."

Hermione swallowed. "We started focusing on the ritual spaces he was building, we thought we could determine a way to track them as he was building them, that kind of magic stands out."

"Smart."

"But it just...it wasn't working."

"And then?"

"Honestly? We'd almost given up again. But then we were in Florida last week and you boys were burning the Thanksgiving turkey."

He laughed at the sudden turn in the conversation. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, you totally manipulated us into cooking dinner!"

"Of course I did, I didn't want to cook on my vacation. I just didn't think that you idiots would be- well, idiotic enough to try and fry a turkey!"

Harry bit his lip. Thanks to his years at the Dursleys he was a fairly competent cook. And given that Hermione had promised to marry him on the Saturday after Thanksgiving he'd been in such a good mood that he'd not made a single protest when she'd blatantly manipulated the men on the trip into making the holiday meal.

He'd been feeling too grateful. Now he could recognize how thoroughly he'd been played. But he still couldn't bring himself to be angry, even over the memory of the pre-baked ham Hermione had purchased and hidden as a back-up in case they completely ruined the bird.

"We will discuss this later, witch, but please continue to explain."

She shrugged. "I don't remember what we were talking about at the time, but we were laying on the beach with the other girls and I think because we weren't thinking about it that it finally came to us."

"What's that?"

"A patronus, its designed purpose is to seek out the darkest of magic and chase it away."

"Yes," he agreed simply.

"But we know they can be spelled to send messages. So, our thought was, what if it could be used to do both?"

"Merlin Hermione."

"It gets a little complicated after that, I don't mean to patronize you..."

"No, a simple explanation would be very much appreciated."

"I theorized that perhaps they could also take and deposit a tracking charm."

"But it didn't work?"

"Not for me, not for the few employees we know are able to produce a patronus either. As Astoria said, the power requirements were far more than we expected."

"But me?"

"I'm-" she caressed his jaw "I"m not sure if you're going to love or hate this."

"Go ahead," he sighed.

"It's just a theory, and it's not something I'd ever share with anybody without your permission. But I think your mother's sacrifice did far more than just protect you from Voldemort. I think your magic is literally seeped in her love. I think that your magic is uniquely capable, in beautiful ways."

"What?"

"Well it has been in the past. Like a shield, and against more than just Voldemort. The way your magic has reached out to protect others has been nothing short of astounding, Harry. And I don't think it was always because you loved the others in question, but you have an incredibly deep capacity for the emotion, especially considering how you were raised."

He could only gape at her.

She pulled out of his arms and began to wipe at her face. "Damn it. I should have told you before now. I wanted to protect you, but I treated you like a child. And I definitely should have told you what I was up to once we were married. But, again, I swear, I just wanted to-"

He yanked her back into his embrace. "You've found a way to catch the Silent Killer?"

"I think so," she shrugged.

"And all I have to do is cast my patronus?"

"I'm almost certain, I'll need to run a few more scans…"

He cut her off, kissing her long and deep. "Let's get started, we'll talk about the rest later."


	26. Chapter 26

Chapter 26

Hermione huddled with Astoria on her couch, wondering if she had been truly prepared to be an auror's wife. Not that she would ever take it back.

There had been times over the years since Harry had become an auror that she had worried for him. She'd known his job was dangerous. But they had been distant, nebulous feelings.

Those feelings had become more intense in the months since she'd been in New York and she'd seen, up close, the risks he often took on the job. However, they were nothing in comparison to these hours when she'd been sitting with Astoria waiting for their husbands to return to them while the two men had been part of the team lying in wait for the Silent Killer.

It was worse- at least in her mind- that she and Astoria had been the ones to send them off after this suspect in the first place. And even worse than that, she'd had little time to speak to Harry about her behavior in respect to the case after she'd explained her theory to him.

Harry had- understandably- been anxious to move forward with the operation and no part of herself could bring her to try to delay him from stopping such a monster. But it still chafed that she hadn't gotten the chance to properly explain herself to him, especially given the small part of her that couldn't help but worry that he might never come back.

They had been married for six days. Hermione thought that even given six decades she'd have a hard time expressing to him how much she loved him. So, six days was far too few, and she'd squandered most of them, even if she still felt that her intentions had been good.

Hermione and Astoria were still on the couch, mindlessly watching some infomercial on the television when the wizards in question stumbled in just before 3 am, both looking a little worse for the wear, but also healthy and hale. Draco grabbed Astoria and apparated away before Hermione could protest their sudden departure.

Harry held her tight. "He would never, ever have taken her if he had a single doubt that he could transport her safely."

Hermione let out a relieved breath, knowing he was right, and did another assessment of her own husband. Again, her eyes told her that he looked a little rumpled, but mostly well.

"How are you?" She ran her hands down his face, over his torso, she'd reached his hips before she realized he was smirking at her.

"I'm completely fine, but feel free to keep checking."

She stopped fretting immediately, a half-laugh, half-sob escaping her lips. "You're okay? It worked? Did you at least check in with a healer?"

"I'm perfectly safe. And of course it worked, you brilliant witch. I had a healer do a diagnostic scan because I knew that you would fret, but I'm fine."

He raised his eyebrows at her, silently asking if she believed him.

"Thanks," she rasped.

He drew her into his arms. "Shower with me?"

Hermione was exhausted, she had been up for two days, only catching a cat nap here and there, and that was following a couple of days of restless sleep. She wasn't certain how long her legs could even support her at this point. She couldn't imagine how Harry seemed unaffected. Still, she didn't hesitate. "Lead on Mr. Potter."

He pulled her towards the bathroom and closed the door behind them, then started the shower. He whipped his glasses off and practically threw them onto the vanity, but given his nearsightedness Hermione wasn't concerned that he wouldn't be able to see what he was doing in the small space.

She watched as he stripped out of his standard issue auror uniform and armor. She hated the reason that he had to wear it, but she couldn't help her reaction to the sight of him in the body-hugging suit, and more so to watching him peel it off.

She was wearing a pair of old pajama pants and one of his tee shirts. She had spent all night tugging at her hair and worrying her lip. She was certain she looked a mess, but when he grinned at her and said: "Hi, beautiful," she didn't doubt his words for a moment.

"Need you," he murmured as he stripped her clothes from her body.

"Yes, okay," she gasped, as she allowed him to maneuver them towards the shower. It didn't escape her notice that, despite the fact that he seemed desperate for her, his body was taut as a bowstring and that he seemed set to let loose his own roiling emotions, he still seemed to be trying to be overly careful with her.

"Go, ahead," she encouraged him, "I'm not fragile."

"I'm sorry," he breathed against her neck.

"Harry, take what you need, I'm here with you- I like being what you need."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

He hugged her against him, her back to his chest as he finished walking them into the tub/shower combo and paused briefly underneath the spray, soaking them both, then he pressed her against the tiled wall.

Hermione gasped at the contrast between his heated body at her back and the cool tile at her front. He placed his hands on her shoulders, trailed them down her arms, then took her hands in his and placed them on either side of her head on the wall. She felt him positioning himself behind her, and then, all of a sudden he was inside of her. He brought his hands up to cover hers and she let her head fall back on his shoulder in ecstasy.

"Good?" He inquired.

"So good."

"I didn't expect you to be so ready for me."

"You...dragonhide...really does it for me," she slurred and let her forehead fall heavily against the cool tiles. "Also very happy to see you."

"I'll have to remember that, I'm very happy to see you too," he practically growled as the hesitant man from before disappeared and he began to pound into her, he laced their fingers together and her moan was the only agreement she could manage to give him. "Are you close?" He asked after a few minutes.

She nodded and he brought one pair of their hands to the place where they were joined, which almost immediately sent her over the edge, he followed, burying his face in her shoulder with a groan.

He kept her trapped against the tiled wall, running his hands all over her slick skin. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"

"Of course not, that was fantastic," she reached back and squeezed his hip.

"I love you so much," he breathed.

"Oh, Harry, I love you too."

Hours later, after a nap, they were huddled together on the sofa much like Hermione had been earlier with Astoria, but with a lot less clothing. Harry was devouring an enormous breakfast as he usually did when he was coming off of the adrenaline high of a mission- no matter the time of day. Hermione was mainly munching on toast, occasionally stealing bites of eggs.

"Okay, sweetheart," he eventually said, wrapping his arm around her across the back of the couch and squeezing her against his chest. "I don't think there's any point pretending we don't have things to talk about. What would you like to tackle first?"

"The mission, please. You were back much sooner than I anticipated."

"Details?"

She shook her head. "Not unless it would be cathartic for you to discuss them."

"Nah," he kissed her temple. "Honestly, one of the most upsetting things about this is how easy it was."

"He had no idea that anybody was onto him, much less that you were lying in wait for him?" She guessed.

"Spot on. How did you know that?"

"His actions thus far have been...arrogant, while his magic in ritual reads as mediocre as it is disgusting. Who is he?"

"Nobody. He's nobody. An average man with an otherwise rather comfortable life. He's never been arrested before, never even been questioned for a crime. He just couldn't be content with what life had gifted him and he thought that this was the answer, to increase his power, to make him somehow better."

She blew out a long breath. "That makes it worse in a way, you know? Riddle was insane, at least at the end. I see too many criminals around here who are just greedy or jealous. I know you've seen it too."

Harry frowned. "And you don't think that's ultimately the same thing?"

"I don't know what you mean."

"Riddle was naturally powerful, yes. But he drove himself insane with his greed, his jealousy, and mostly his fear. He wanted to be a pureblood, or at least he wanted to be revered as such- I don't think he really cared about that at all in the end. And he was terrified of dying, and was willing to do anything, even the unthinkable to avoid it. Which really just goes to show how utterly out of touch with his own humanity he was."

"I- that's the most accurate and insightful summation of his character that I've ever heard."

"Don't sound so surprised, I'm not a complete idiot," he nuzzled her neck.

"Of course you're not. I've just never heard you articulate something so well. I guess," she sighed, "part of me is still getting used to the adult you, at least as far as your intellect."

"You're used to us all being more than a little behind you." He held a hand up when she went to object. "I'm honestly not offended, You _are_ smarter than me, though I like to think the gap has closed considerably since we left Hogwarts."

She stroked his cheek. "It's not even that, Harry. It's that we've always just applied our intelligence in different ways. And at Hogwarts it seemed to me like you were hiding yours. I don't think it was intentional, but it's surprising to see you let it out," she shrugged.

He nodded and kissed her cheek. "Now is that all? Because I'd like to finish this discussion as soon as possible, it's still my honeymoon week and I have things to be doing." He ran a hand between her legs.

She narrowed her eyes at him and giggled, though it felt a little empty, and agreed. "For now, you know I'll want details later, or I'll just read the reports. But for the record, the charm on Prongs worked like we wanted it to?"

"Like a charm," he quipped.

She couldn't help but snort into the crook of his neck.

"Now you," she encouraged, "I know you have things to get off your chest about what's happened this week, maybe even before, I don't blame you."

He took a deep breath. "You could have told me what you were up to. I'm not angry but I'm...confused. I understand that we both have subjects in our work that we won't be able to discuss with each other due to confidentiality, but this wasn't one of them. Why did you think that you needed to solve this alone, or shield me from it?"

"I've been thinking about that," she said slowly. "Throughout our friendship it's mostly been my job to do the research, to formulate the plans. I never wanted to stress you when you were already stressed."

"Okay, I get that. And you're not wrong," he allowed, "but we're not kids anymore, Hermione."

"No, we're not. But I love you even more now than I did then, I guess it makes me even more protective."

"We agreed to stand together," he let out a long breath, "we agreed."

"You're right, which is why I'm so sorry. There are some things I know here," she tapped her temple, "That this is still struggling to accept," she moved her hand to touch the place above her heart. "I suppose I'm still adapting, but that's no excuse. Please forgive me."

"Oh that's not even a question, love."

"Thank you," she whispered. "I just want us to live this life in peace."

Harry remained quiet. Normally he would have said something, but there was something in her words that seemed like a benediction and it felt like he needed to let it be.

Hermione twisted and untwisted the fingers of their joined hands over and over. It took awhile before she realized that Harry was toying with the rings on her left hand, his brow furrowed in thought.

"We never talked about how this was going to work, did we?" He asked. "I mean, I know that we're certain about each other, but we moved rather fast, we might have missed a few conversations."

She laughed. "We had the longest whirlwind romance in history."

He grinned and kissed her brow and for some reason that comment reminded him of a question he'd been chewing over. "Why did you think of Prongs, the other day in your office?"

She grinned at him mischievously. "Actually, it was because of your talk of sex magic this weekend."

"Excuse me?"

"It's just, when you love, you do it hard, Harry."

"Excuse me?" Harry reiterated, laughing long and loud.

Hermione glanced up at him, confused, before her unintentional innuendo sunk in."Harry James!" She chided, though she hardly meant it, given that she wasn't actually offended, it was just an automatic reflex.

He just continued to laugh and scrunched his nose in her direction. "What? I didn't say anything!"

"Thorough, I meant thorough! You're a very thorough lover! I mean- I mean yes, but no!"

Harry was basically howling, rocking back and forth, and almost accidentally tossed her off of the couch in the process."Hermione, you're blushing so much, you do realize I've seen everything you've got, right?"

She glared at him. "It's not that! I just don't like being caught off guard, okay?!"

He looked her straight in the eye, one eyebrow raised. "And neither do I."

Her breath caught. "Understood. I'm really very sorry, love," she stroked his face.

"Prongs?" He prompted. "Because I know that I'm not as well read as you are, but I still know that patronuses are not sex magic, so explain yourself Miss Granger," he poked her.

"No. It wasn't a straight trajectory from one thought to the other," she sighed and melted back into his embrace. "I'll never forget that night with the time turner."

"Me either."

"Not just for what happened, but because I was never really scared in the way I probably should have been."

Harry scoffed.

"I know. But now that I think about it, I was just so certain that you would protect me, I didn't hesitate."

"You put that time turner around both of our necks without any real thought," he chimed in.

"Yeah," she breathed, "because I didn't need to think. And it wasn't even the first time when it came to you, it certainly wasn't the last. And then I looked up yesterday morning and you were standing in front of me, and I felt so stupid. I'd seen what Prongs can do, and it just seemed suddenly obvious that you could direct him for me, for the same reason I think we both know that we could perform some beautfiful sex magic, because we love each other so much."

"But what about Astoria? She seemed to sense a lot more from Prongs than anybody else ever has."

Hermione shrugged. "She's a charms expert and she knew what I was getting at. Most other people are- as I said- either a little too used to you being extraordinary that they just ignore it, or they'd never really seen what you're capable of doing."

Harry looked down and seemed to chew on the thought. He literally chewed on his lower lip, but when he looked up his eyes danced with mischief. Hermione braced herself.

"So what you're saying is that I walked into your office and you immediately thought of sex?"

Hermione could only stare at him for awhile, trying to decide if she wanted to hit him, laugh, or shag him. Eventually she decided on all three, in that order.


	27. Chapter 27

Chapter 27

Harry took her hand. "Are you ready?"

"As I'll ever be." She gripped the carrier bags full of presents in her free hand more tightly and allowed him to apparate them to the outer wards of the Burrow.

He stopped there and pulled her into a deep kiss. "I love you. You and me, no matter what, okay?"

"Right, of course." She tugged his hand but he just remained in place. She glanced at him to see that he was looking at her expectantly. "Oh, I love you too." He smiled and squeezed her hand before leading her onward. She took some deep breaths as they approached the still-familiar dwelling.

Married for less than a month, Hermione could admit that this was not her first choice for spending their first holiday season as a couple. But she would never even hint at those feelings. She knew that owed it to Harry, and to his surrogate family to make amends with them. And she owed it to Ron and Lavender to be there for the days leading up to their wedding.

They'd taken almost a full day to settle into Potter House and had arrived at the Burrow for Mrs. Weasley's weekly Sunday Brunch. At least they'd been assured that Ginny wouldn't be present for this first meeting. Though Hermione hoped she had properly relayed that they would never want the younger witch to feel unwelcome in her own home, her decision to stay away was a relief nonetheless.

They were still at least twenty meters from the front door when it flew open and Lavender ran outside.

"Hiiiiiiiii!"

She practically tackled Hermione which, given that she was several inches taller than Hermione nearly toppled them both. Then she literally lept into Harry's arms, it was a maneuver which, at one time, would have annoyed the hell out of Hermione. Now she just laughed at the discomfort on her husband's face.

"Hi Lavender, it's good to see you too," he said, patting her back awkwardly.

"Oh you both look so great," she gushed, taking one of each of their arms and basically dragging them towards the house.

Ron was standing in the doorway with a gentle smile on his face but he looked absolutely exhausted. He turned to Harry first and they embraced briefly in that way that men do, clapping each others shoulders. Then he wrapped his arms around Hermione and pulled her close.

"You have to help me," he whispered roughly into her ear, "she's gone crazy! At this rate I won't live through the wedding! And the rest of the family is ready to murder her!"

"Okay, I'll do what I can," she murmured as she stepped into the front room of the Burrow, setting the carrier bags aside to retrieve later. "Lavender, how are things with the wedding?" She asked, which was apparently exactly the wrong thing to say. Lavender burst into tears.

"Oh it's a disaster! Wait until you see what's happened!"

She took their arms again and began dragging them towards the kitchen, Hermione could sense Ron following them closely. When they entered the room, despite the fact that it was full, it was mostly silent except for the sounds of Lavender's voice and Mrs. Weasley cooking, which was a bad sign; this house was never quiet.

Hermione wondered if she should say something in greeting, but Lavender was chattering on incessantly and nobody seemed keen to interrupt.

"They lost a crate of plates which means that I have to pick an entirely new place setting and they're all horrible!"

Hermione could feel all the eyes in the room on her, but she kept her attention on Lavender. She'd assumed Ron had been exaggerating, but the other witch really did look to be on the verge of completely unraveling.

Strewn across the kitchen table was a variety of wedding planning paraphernalia. Lavender led them to a spot about halfway down the table and gestured to the three photographs laid out in front of them. "This is just, this is not what I had in mind at all!"

Hermione looked at the three pictured place settings and took a deep breath. All three of them looked remarkably similar, but more than that, they looked very similar to the pictures Lavender had shown her of the one she'd originally chosen.

"Okay," she said, gathering her thoughts. "I know you're disappointed, but keep in mind that nobody will know that whatever you do end up choosing wasn't your first choice. And these are all lovely. If you want my opinion, I like this one," she gestured to the center picture. "The border on the China reminds me of the lace on your dress, in a subtle way. And you were the one who told me that a bride's gown should be the centerpiece of a wedding."

Lavender stopped sniffling and bent over to take a closer look at the photograph. "Oh, you're right, I didn't even think of that. What do you think, Harry? I need a man's opinion and Ron just said he doesn't care."

"That's not what I said!" Ron objected. "I told you pick whatever you liked!"

"Because you don't care! It doesn't matter to you, this wedding doesn't even matter to you!"

Hermione suppressed a sigh. "Lavender," she said gently, "look at them." She waited until the other witch glanced up to look at first Harry then Ron. "They're completely terrified right now." She sent them a subtle wink, hoping they wouldn't let their pride get in the way of what she was trying to do. "They have no idea how to respond to this, they don't know the right thing to say to keep from upsetting you. It's not because they don't care. Men just don't see these details the way we do, we're probably lucky they even realize they're looking at place settings," she looked up at them. "You did realize that didn't you boys?" She teased.

They nodded their heads in tandem, eyes wide.

"I'm sure that Ron only meant that he wanted you to choose what you liked best because he wanted you to be happy, this specific thing is irrelevant to him, but that doesn't mean he doesn't care about the wedding. I'm guessing he had a lot of opinions on the food?"

"Yeah," she admitted. "Roast beef, and those rolls that he likes so much," she smiled at Ron fondly. "And we tried so many different kinds of cakes. We're going to have three different flavors!"

And just like that, her excitement was back. Hermione was just breathing a sigh of relief when her face fell again.

"Oh but Hermione, you haven't even heard about the flowers!"

"Okay, well then tell me what's happened with the flowers?"

"The florist says they can't fulfill my order of roses, they say they can't get them in time! I can't have a wedding without roses! What kind of florist doesn't have roses!"

"They do have roses," Mrs. Weasley suddenly interrupted with a heavy sigh, not even turning from her cooking. "They just don't have the ten dozen extra you decided to order two days ago."

Hermione cut her eyes in Ron's direction, hoping for some guidance. She didn't want it to seem like she was swooping and and taking over from Molly Weasley, but she'd promised him she'd help. Also, he was the one footing the bill.

"If you really think you need the extra roses," she began and Ron started nodding frantically, "then I think we can make that happen. I would start by owling Astoria, the woman has contacts everywhere, also you might think about reaching out to Neville, he or one of his Herbology colleagues might have a suggestion. And if worse comes to worst Harry and I can hire a car and go into the London flower markets and get them ourselves."

Lavender's eyes welled with tears. "You would do that for me?"

"Of course, this is your time, I'm here for you, whatever you need. You were a tremendous help planning my wedding and very gracious in sacrificing part of your vacation to do it."

"Oh Hermione, that was fun," she sighed. "And your wedding was perfect, I just want mine to be too!"

Hermione sighed internally. Given the quick and simple nature of her wedding it had never occurred to her that the other woman would compare the two.

"It will be, Lav. And you're right, my wedding was perfect. But the reason for that is standing next to me," she reached up and brushed Harry's cheek with her fingertips. "I promise you it didn't have anything to do with the plates."

Harry, who was still staring at them with wide eyes suddenly blurted: "We had plates at our wedding?"

Hermione turned back to Lavender with an "I told you so" look on her face and she giggled. Lavender patted Harry's arm. "He really is very sweet."

"What!" Ron objected. "How is it that he doesn't know anything about plates and it's sweet but I don't and it means I don't care?"

Hermione had to resist the urge to shake her head.

"Oh Ron," Lavender sighed. "I'm going to go owl Astoria and Neville before lunch." And with that she marched out of the kitchen.

Hermione glared at Ron when he just continued to stand there. "Go after her, you idiot," she hissed.

"Do I have to?"

"Yes! And stop saying things like that! Lavender's not marrying Harry, he's allowed to be clueless, you're not!"

He took a deep breath and went after his fiancee and Hermione looked at Harry. "Really?" She asked with the arch of one brow. "We had plates at our wedding?" She mimicked him.

Somehow his eyes managed to grow even wider. "Well, I course we had plates, I mean we must have because we ate. But there definitely weren't that many forks," he stammered and pointed to the picture of the place settings. "Am I in trouble? Because that was really scary," he gestured to where Lavender had been standing. "And now you're kind of looking at me like I'm in trouble, so, I'm sorry that I don't remember the plates? But, it's just because I couldn't take my eyes off of you." He smiled at her hopefully.

She just stared at him and his face began to fall, she burst out laughing. His jaw dropped.

"Mean, Hermione! That was mean!"

"I'm sorry! It was just too easy, I couldn't resist! You should have seen your face!"

He crossed his arms over his chest.

"And Lavender's right, you're very sweet."

"You're going to pay for that."

"Yes," she rolled her eyes, "I'm terrified."

He winked at her and looked around the room. "Hello everybody, it's good to see you all."

Hermione wiped her eyes and took her own first good look around the room, the occupants were all looking at her with some combination of discomfort and amusement, except for Mrs. Weasley who wasn't looking at her at all. "Yes, hello everyone. I've missed you."

"Well, Granger" George quipped, "I'd kiss you for getting us a little peace from the she-beast. But I think there's been enough of that kind of controversy going on around here lately."

Harry bristled at her side and Hermione felt her cheeks heat.

"George," Mr. Weasley chided.

"What? I thought we should address the pink hippogriff in the room straight away."

Hermione felt Harry's hand at the small of her back. "If you want to be mad at somebody, be mad at me. Hermione's done nothing wrong."

"You mean other than bugger off to America for a few years like none of us even mattered?"

"I'm sorry," she sighed and wrung her hands. "I'm just sorry."

"While the apology is appreciated, that doesn't really explain anything. You made it seem like we weren't worthy of your time."

Hermione blinked back tears; her guilt was not their burden to bear. "It was never my intention to make you feel like that and I don't have an excuse. I certainly meant to keep in touch. I was grieving- as we all were, of course. I was trying to find my place in the world. And I could try to explain that the longer I was gone, the more time seemed to speed up and before I knew it years had gone by. But that doesn't make it better. I was wrong and I hope that you can find it in yourselves to forgive me eventually, as Harry has."

"I'd say Harry's done a lot more than that. My question is, how long has Harry been doing a lot more than that?"

Hermione's breath caught. She hadn't actually expected such a blunt accusation, but especially from George, It also didn't escape her notice that nobody had attempted to interrupt this confrontation.

"Watch it," Harry snapped, "I don't like what you're implying about my wife."

George shrugged. "The two of you have always been awfully close. And you were alone together for a long time during the war."

Harry stepped closer to Hermione. "You know, I'm really getting tired of people acting like we were on some lovers get away instead of in a daily struggle to survive. Starvation doesn't really lend itself to sexy times. Moreover, even if we had spent all day, everyday, in that tent shagging, not only would it be none of your business, but we wouldn't have been doing anything wrong. We were both of age and single. However, I've never lied to Ron, or Ginny, or any of you when I said that until a few months ago we were just friends and I can't think of anything I've done to make you question my integrity on that. Or how you could possibly think that Hermione was that type of woman."

"You did get married awfully quickly," Bill interjected. "And you hurt our sister, you can't blame us for wondering."

"I'm sorry that I hurt Ginny, and I don't blame you for being angry about that. Yell at me all you want. But I won't just stand here and let you disrespect Hermione, we'll leave if we have to."

"Harry," she said in a low voice, "it's-"

"Don't say it's fine, because it's not," he practically barked.

"Okay," Mr. Weasley stood up and clapped his hands once. "Nobody's leaving, we invited you here to have lunch and to catch up and that's what we're going to do." He rounded the table and held his arms out towards Hermione. "You look lovely dear, how are you?"

She embraced him, tears stinging her eyes, for a different reason this time. It had been a long time since she'd felt the embrace of a father. "I'm well Mr. Weasley, how are you?"

He chuckled. "I think it's long past time you started calling me 'Arthur' and I've gotten old is how I am."

She took a half step back and smiled up at him. "Thank you, Arthur. And you don't look old to me."

"You're too kind."

Arthur held his hand out for Harry to shake and Angelina practically ran over to hug Hermione. "I'm sorry about George, she whispered into her ear. We all know how close you and Harry were at Hogwarts but they don't really believe it was tawdry. They're just feeling protective."

"It's okay, I understand."

"By the way, marriage looks amazing on you and you two are adorable."

"Thanks. You're looking great too, it's really good to see you."

Angelina just shot her a beaming smile.

She was passed around after that. Everybody embraced her, and even though she could tell that Ginny's brothers weren't thrilled by the situation, there was still real warmth in their embraces. Except for Percy, who just offered her his hand, but that was simply Percy.

Much too soon the only person left to greet was Mrs. Weasley, the older witch still hadn't even turned around to look at them.

"Hello, Mrs. Weasley, thank you for having us," Hermione said quietly, clasping her hands in front of her. "Is there anything I can do to help with lunch?"

The older witch took her time, waving her wand to stir the two pots on the stove and send a couple of dishes from the worktop to the table, but she finally turned to face Hermione. "Hello Hermione. And I appreciate the thought, but no thank you, you were never much of a cook." She glanced at Harry. "Which I suppose is why you're too skinny."

"Molly," Hermione heard Arthur gasp.

Hermione forced herself not to flinch at the not so subtle insult. The irony was, Hermione knew that Ginny was no better in the kitchen than she was. According to Harry it was a source of constant conflict between mother and daughter.

Mrs. Weasley held her arms out for Harry. He hesitated. Luckily, Hermione was standing close enough to him to nudge him towards the older witch, but Hermione noticed he stepped away from her much sooner than he would have in the past.

"I assure you Molly," he said after moving back to Hermione's side and placing an arm around her waist, "I'm perfectly healthy. You know I get regular, on the job health checks."

"I wasn't sure they did that in America," she huffed.

Harry nodded easily but Hermione saw the tightness around his eyes; he was bracing himself. "Anyway, I do most of the cooking in our household. It's relaxing for me and Hermione's job is more demanding than mine at the moment. Also, there's always take-away."

"Well," Mrs. Weasley huffed again, "now that you're home for good we'll fix that. And I still think you could stand to put on a few pounds."

Harry glanced at Hermione out of the corner of his eyes. Ron and Lavender were the only Weasleys who knew that they intended to stay in New York permanently. She and Harry both knew that the subject would have to be addressed, but they also both knew that the upcoming conversation was not going to be pleasant.


	28. Chapter 28

**This is the penultimate chapter of this story. The final chapter will be posted tomorrow followed by an epilogue on Friday. I have a tiny platform here so I'm just going to say it: in these scary times, as a citizen of the world but also as the daughter of a doctor and a nurse, and the sister of another nurse, unless absolutely necessary STAY HOME. Seriously guys, please, please, PLEASE. stay home, stay safe, read fanfiction ;)**

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Chapter 28

Harry and Hermione's visit to the Burrow proved to be very eye opening for Harry. He knew in his heart that things were different before they had even arrived, but he didn't truly understand until they'd arrived at the Burrow how much his world had truly shifted.

He would always consider the Weasleys to be family, and their home a refuge- one of his firsts. But it wasn't the center of his universe, as he once might have thought of it to be. No. His world now revolved around Hermione and the family they were planning to build together. However, that fact hadn't fully registered until he'd walked into the Weasley home for the first time in months.

When he'd met the Weasleys he'd been a sad, scarred little boy desperately in search of affection, and he'd found it at the Burrow. And he would always be grateful for the refuge the redheaded family had provided him. But before that, he'd found it with a bushy haired little girl who had followed him into danger against her better judgement, and had continued to do so over and over again.

Hermione would later tell him that she wondered, in that moment standing inside the Burrow, if the universe was punishing her for her past cowardice. Because the moment he opened his mouth to explain to the Weasleys that he and Hermione were more or less permanently relocating to the United States, Ron and Lavender made their reappearance. They should have been a reassuring presence; except that they had Ginny in tow.

Ron looked sheepish. Lavender looked angry. Ginny looked determined.

There had been a few exclamations of surprise at her arrival and the current topic of conversation was forgotten for the time being. Ginny had looked viciously pleased with herself as she entered the house and glared at Harry, almost daring him to object to her presence. It was mean and petty and even if Hermione hadn't been gripping his fingers in a vicious hold, telling him not to, he liked to have thought he would have kept from sniping at her.

It was an ugly part of her character. As the baby of the family and the only girl she had been doted on and spoiled even despite the Weasleys limited means. And so when she didn't get her way, she lashed out. Harry didn't want to give her the satisfaction of lowering himself to that kind of behavior.

To avoid some of the tension in the air everybody scrambled to settle in for lunch.

Things were silent for many long minutes. Harry was surprised Molly didn't go back to interrogating them about their future plans immediately, but the reprieve was welcomed as he tried to figure Ginny's game in showing up here. He was an investigator, that was his job, his instinct. Because there was no way that her appearance was a coincidence.

Suddenly, he noticed Hermione nervously spinning her engagement ring and wedding band around and around her left ring finger with the thumb of the same hand. It was a nervous habit she'd started to pick up in lieu of tugging on her hair. He reached out and snagged a hand to stop her, which had the unfortunate side-effect of drawing attention to the activity.

"That's a lovely ring, Hermione," noted Ginny, it was the first thing she'd said to either one of them.

Harry felt Hermione take a deep breath, but she didn't allow her voice to falter as she answered. "Thank you, I like it."

Ginny smirked, it was an ugly thing. "Then again, that stands to reason. Harry's had some practice picking them out."

"I suppose," Hermione answered, straightening her spine, and Harry was rapidly losing his resolve not to lower himself to Ginny's level.

"How are you finding Potter House, wonderful isn't it?" Ginny continued, sopping up her leftovers with her toast, and speaking like butter wouldn't melt in her mouth.

Harry resisted the urge to snort. However she was trying to make it sound, Harry knew that Ginny hadn't been overly fond of Potter House. It was a quintessential English country home and Ginny's tastes ran to the more modern or grandiose, and she'd never spent any significant time there.

Hermione didn't miss a beat. "Yes, it's rather perfect. The library is very picturesque, but the collection is at least a century out of date, Lily was planning to update it. It's a project which I plan to complete in her honor."

Harry suppressed an audible sigh. Oh, his clever witch. She'd taken the high road as well as the rug out from under Ginny's feet. The other witch couldn't very well make a snide remark about Harry's late mother.

"That sounds like a wonderful idea, Hermione," said Fleur, obviously anxious to move the conversation along.

"Yes," her husband cleared his throat. "Let me know if you need any assistance. The goblins have contacts."

Hermione bit her lip and Harry could tell she was considering something, seeming to have come to a decision when she smiled wryly at him. "Don't be so modest, Bill."

"Excuse me?"

"You think I haven't kept up with your career? You're one of the top humans in the European branch of the bank. Your contacts are your own, though I very much appreciate the offer."

He shrugged sheepishly but there was pride in his posture and he winked at her. Fleur, on the other hand, was positively beaming. "And you Miss Granger, have done great things over there in America. I'd love to talk to you about your research later."

"Only if I can pick your brain too."

"Of course."

"Great things, what kind of great things?" Percy inquired. "And it's _Lady Potter_ now, Bill." He corrected, he had perked right up upon hearing that Hermione was making a name for herself professionally, and Harry just knew he was already angling for a way to use her to further his own career.

"Hermione is one of the foremost authorities in the research and development of protective magic primarily designed for the use of law enforcement in the field. I have no idea what inspired that," he smirked and his eyes drifted to Harry.

Hermione flushed from her collar to her hairline. "After all those years it was practically a reflex, I just fell into it."

Bill laughed.

"Have you not applied for a job at the Ministry? I'd think in my position I certainly would have heard about that by now?" Percy inquired in his usual self-important manner.

Arthur chuckled. "You're right, Kingsley would absolutely be crowing over the opportunity to get you on the payroll. He was quite put out to have lost you."

"Well," Hermione glanced at Harry and he reached over to take her hand.

"Actually," Harry interrupted, "that was something we wanted to tell you tonight. Hermione won't be applying for a position at the Ministry and I'll be resigning mine."

"What? Why?" Several voices resounded throughout the kitchen.

"I've accepted a permanent position at MACUSA. We'll still have a home here, of course in Potter House, but we've bought a house in New York which we're renovating and we plan to live there indefinitely."

"What?!" Molly screeched again.

Ginny threw her fork onto her plate in apparent disgust and she narrowed her eyes in Hermione's direction. Harry shifted towards his wife automatically, because he knew the look on Ginny's face, and she was about to get _mean._

"Good Godric, Hermione, how bloody selfish can you get?"

"I'm sorry?"

"First you run away to America like a coward, leaving the rest of us to clean up after the war. Then you can't be bothered to keep in touch. Then when you and Harry get together, we have to hear about it through Ron. You have a quickie wedding that you don't invite any of us to. And now you're stealing him away from our family, are you trying to break my mother's heart? I knew you were logical to a fault, I've seen that you're willing to do anything to get what you want, but I didn't think you'd go this far."

And that was when Harry lost the last of his patience. Things which had been bubbling up to the surface suddenly erupted. "If anybody here is selfish, it's me. It was all my idea, the small quiet wedding, staying in America, and if I'm being really honest, if I had been braver I would have left Britain years ago too. So again, if anybody is a coward, it's me."

Molly sobbed and Harry felt a stab of guilt, but he braced himself against the feeling. He wasn't doing this to hurt her. This was the best decision for himself and his future family.

"I think we're all just wondering why, Harry?" Arthur said softly.

Harry turned to look at the man and suddenly blurted his thoughts: "because I hate living in Britain, Arthur. My life here has been one disaster after another and I don't see that changing any time soon. I've finally gotten the courage to admit that I'm tired of it, and it's certainly not something I intend to put my family through."

"We're your family," Molly objected.

"Yes," he said as calmly as he could muster, "but other than you and Potter House, which as much as I love it, is just a building, I have nothing here."

"I think you're being a little dramatic," said Ginny, sitting back in her chair and crossing her arms over her chest.

"Really?" He could feel his magic building and Hermione clamped a hand down on his thigh to try and calm him, and because she was Hermione, it worked. "I spent the first eleven years of my life in the home of people who couldn't stand me and certainly couldn't be bothered to hide the fact; denied any knowledge of my magical or familial heritage. Then I went to Hogwarts, do you need a summation of those years? Then this entire country decided that, at fifteen, it was my job to defeat the most terrible dark lord in history- the same man who had murdered my parents."

The silence in the air was thick. And then Hermione took up his monologue. He knew that she must have been shocked by his outburst given that these were not issues he ever willingly discussed, but she hardly missed a beat.

"He can't walk down Diagon Alley without basically being mobbed. Why do you think he took a job that required so much travel?"

Harry nodded in agreement. "Hermione and I have a good life in New York. I'm not doing this to hurt you Molly, and I'm sorry that it means moving so far away, but I just want some peace."

"But what about when you have children?"

"What about it?" Harry frowned.

"Who will look after them?"

Hermione glanced at Harry and fielded the question. "We haven't discussed it, in depth, but there are plenty of options: one or both of us could cut back our hours, or even take a sabbatical. There are day-care centers or we could hire an au pair."

"They should be with family," Molly insisted firmly.

Harry sighed. This wasn't fun for him, but he was growing increasingly frustrated.

Hermione took his hand, but he shook his head. "We have family in New York too, a family that we've made just like we've built a family here, but neither Hermione nor I are blood related to anybody in this room. Please don't insult us by discounting the relationships we've built with others," he answered as gently as possible. "And you will always be welcome in our home. But I think it's best that we left now, but thank you for having us." He rose and held out a hand for Hermione who looked at him through teary eyes and hesitated only briefly before accepting it.


	29. Chapter 29

Chapter 29

"How did you know?" Ron asked Harry drunkenly.

"I'm sorry, what?" Harry responded, frowning at his friend.

"Hermione. How did you know that she was the one?"

Harry looked at Hermione in alarm. They were lounging in the largest sitting room at Potter House with Ron wedged between them on the couch. It was the night before Ron's wedding and he and Lavender had decided they would each spend the night away from their shared flat. The last thing Ron wanted was to spend the night at the Burrow with his mother hovering and fretting and so he turned to his best friends and they'd decided to spend one last evening, just the three of them.

In the spirit of celebration they had agreed that Ron would be allowed to get mildly drunk- with a hangover potion on hand. But Harry had never expected such a question, from what he could tell Ron was completely gone over Lavender. And this time, unlike at Hogwarts, their relationship was healthy.

Well, at least most of the time. Harry was fairly sure his best mate would have committed murder to make sure his fiancee got her dream wedding. He had actually volunteered to accompany Harry and Hermione into muggle London to procure Lavender's extra roses, if it became necessary. Fortunately, it hadn't been; Astoria had seemingly only needed to snap her fingers a few times and Lavender had all the flowers she could ever wish for.

"Are you having second thoughts?" He asked Ron, his eyes never leaving Hermione's, searching for guidance.

Things had been awkward over the past week. Ginny had avoided them entirely- Harry was grateful, but he wondered if it could last. Molly had been strangely silent and he suspected that Arthur had gone out of his way to put his foot down. It wasn't something he did often, but Harry was aware that when he did, it was effective. Harry hoped that, eventually, things would get back to something like normal between him and the family. But he wasn't at all sure he could fix the heartbreak which Ron canceling his wedding would cause, or that he was prepared to have this conversation.

Thank Merlin, as always, for Hermione.

Ron snorted. "What? What are you talking about? 'Course not!" He twisted his head against the back of the couch and glared at Harry. "Why would you even ask me that?"

Harry barely managed to keep from snorting to himself at that absurd question. Only the glassy, unfocused look in his friend's eyes had him refraining. "Oh I don't know, maybe because on the night before your wedding you felt the need to ask me how I knew my wife was 'the one?' That sounds like second thoughts, you arse, don't get mad at me."

Ron blinked at him and then he laughed. "Okay, okay," he slurred, "I get your point. But I didn't mean it like that. I thought we were bonnnnding," the slur in his speech was more prominent than ever. "Last night as a trio and all that. I wanna know."

Harry glanced at Hermione again and she just shrugged. "I don't mind if you tell him, I'd quite like to hear how you answer that question myself," she shot him a coy little grin.

Harry sighed. "I think... she came back into my life and I realized that she was the one thing I didn't want to live without."

Harry braced himself, hoping that Ron's drunkenness would ameliorate the headiness of this confession.

Ron's blue eyes swiveled in his direction. "Always? Since always, right?"

Harry took a deep breath. "I think she always has been, yeah."

Ron shifted his gaze to Hermione, "and the same for you?"

"Yeah," she whispered.

"And yet you kept me around."

For a moment Harry's breath caught, preparing to defend himself, and mostly his wife, until he realized that for the first time there was no hesitation, no bitterness in his friend's tone. But Hermione reacted before he could and she jabbed Ron- hard- on his nearest bicep.

Ron recoiled. "Ow! What the hell, Mione?!"

She continued pummeling him."This is the absolute last time that you are even allowed to hint that you were superfluous to defeating Voldemort, and most of all, to our friendship!"

He blinked, but then his whole contenance calmed. "Okay, okay," he chuckled. He settled back against the couch and many long minutes passed before he looked at Hermione again. "I love you a lot, you know?" He lowered his voice, "Harry too, but it would be weird if I told him that."

"I think Harry knows," she stage whispered in return, glancing at Harry over his head.

"Hmmmmm," he agreed, his body going slack, and Hermione took the opportunity to snatch his drink from his hand. But just when she thought he was asleep he took a deep breath. "I'm going to miss you both."

Hermione nearly bit through her lip.

"We'll be back all the time, mate, Harry soothed. "I have to come back for House business, and Hermione will want to come along and help, plus she and Astoria are still working on all sorts of things."

"And I'll want to see you," she narrowed her eyes in Harry's direction and then glanced back at Ron. "It won't just be business trips."

"Of course not, I didn't mean to say it like that," Harry quickly corrected, and she smirked.

"Good," Ron mumbled, "that's really good."

Harry and Hermione eyed each other as they maneuvered Ron so that he was lying completely prone on the couch and Hermione carefully tucked a throw around his body and kissed his forehead. Then she took Harry's hand and they headed to the master bedroom.

Hermione changed in the bathroom, as was her habit, and then padded out into the master bedroom of Potter House, the majesty of which she was still becoming accustomed to. It both suited her and completely overwhelmed her.

Harry was sprawled out in the middle of the enormous master bed, sheets resting down around his hips. He grinned at her broadly when she reentered the room and extended his arms, wiggling his fingers in invitation. She sighed and shook her head. Any compulsion she'd felt to keep to her own side of the bed for the sake of their best friend downstairs disappeared at the sight of her handsome husband. He chuckled like he knew exactly what she was thinking, which he probably did.

She crawled onto the mattress and arranged herself so that she was almost entirely on top of him, one of her legs wedged between his.

"I've missed you," Hermione confessed, rocking herself against his erection demonstratively. Their week back in Britain had left them very little alone time together.

"Me too," said Harry and then he breathed out a sigh. "Merlin, witch, you are something else. We're going to have to get some bruise paste from George in the morning for Ron's arm."

"He deserved that, it's well past time he stopped doubting himself. And I feel badly, I know we're doing the best thing for us, but it also feels like we're abandoning him."

"He understands."

"I know he does, in his head, but in his place... " she sighed. "I'm really going to have to get used to transcontinental portkey travel, aren't I?"

He chuckled. "I have no problem with you buying a first class airline ticket as often as you'd like, I know how much you hate portkeys, even if they are technically more efficient."

She thought for a moment, and then bit back a smile. "Like you wouldn't be joining me if I decide I'd prefer to spend eight hours in the air rather than a few minutes grasping a portkey?"

He sighed in faux exasperation as she continued to rock against him. "Always, Hermione," he hissed. "I'll follow you, always."


	30. Epilogue

Epilogue: 3 Years Later

The sounds of a giggling, screaming baby echoed throughout the halls of his ancestral home and Harry grinned to himself as he chased after the little girl on his hands and knees, roaring all the while. He found her standing in the middle of the front hall, looking over her shoulder, clearly waiting for him to catch up. She lit up when she caught sight of him.

"I'll get you!" He growled playfully.

She squealed, laughed uproariously, and then took off as fast as her chubby toddler legs could carry her. She had just disappeared into the library when the doorbell rang. Harry momentarily froze, as few people arrived by this manner. They usually requested floo access. His heart began to pound in his chest, whether it was hope or something other than that which was controlling it, he couldn't have said.

He went to the front door. He felt, rather than saw the Potter elves appear behind him and he hesitated before he opened the door.

"Should I be prepared for battle?" He asked them, only half joking.

"No, Master Harry," his head elf Nelly answered, "it's Mistress Hermione's parents, but their energy is...not nice...unsettled. We are not knowing what to expect."

Part of Harry sighed in relief. Hermione's parents had finally come to see her. He and Hermione sent them a letter every time they came to England; her parents had moved back almost two years ago. But up until now they'd seemed largely uninterested in making contact. That hadn't stopped Harry from sending them a permanent portkey onto their property. However, after a while, it seemed like they would never partake of the invitation.

But now they had.

Harry took a deep breath. "Nelly, I assure you that they mean you no harm. They are simply uncomfortable with magic. I will go and greet them." He held a hand out against the elf's protests as he strode towards the door. "Your service is very much appreciated but they are unused to non-humans, I wouldn't want to startle them from the get-go."

He pulled the door open. "Mr. and Mrs. Granger," he greeted them. He heard the pounding of little feet- apparently there was one being in the house who was not deterred by his orders. "Come here, little bit," he called and the little girl trotted into the room, halting slightly at the sight of strangers, but then she broke into a run until she reached him. He scooped her up, a little disconcerted by her behavior as she was never shy and he could only assume she'd sensed the tension in the air.

Hermione's mother burst into tears. Harry shifted uneasily, he was bad with crying women generally, a crying Granger woman could easily bring him to his knees. "I'm sorry Mrs. Granger, I know we haven't started out well, in general, but is there something which has upset you in particular?"

The woman, who looked so much like an older version of Hermione that it almost hurt, reached towards the baby in his arms, stopping just before brushing her cheeks with her fingers.

"I can't believe my baby had a baby without even letting us know."

It was all Harry could do not to bite back with an angry retort. Hermione wrote them _monthly_. Harry understood that they distrusted her magic, but it had been years. Years of him watching his wife sit down every month and try to justify herself for trying to keep them safe. Years of begging them to understand.

But it wasn't his decision to make. They were finally here, he wouldn't risk chasing them off before they'd even seen Hermione. However, he could set them straight.

"I'm sorry but you seem to be operating under a misapprehension. This is Lillian, she's our goddaughter. Do you remember Ron?"

Both Grangers nodded.

"This is his daughter. Please come in, if you'd like. I'm sorry but Hermione is out on a research project at the moment but I expect her back at any time."

Lillian, naturally precocious, almost immediately reached for Richard Granger. The man in question chuckled. "I'm happy to take her, if you don't mind."

Harry just nodded and he reached out his arms for her with a return nod in Harry's direction, "I miss this age."

And then Harry said something that he knew was emotionally manipulative, but he couldn't bring himself to care. "I'm enjoying it with Lilli, but I'm really looking forward to it with my own."

Helen gasped. "Is that- are the two of you planning on that soon?"

Harry looked at her evenly. He and Hermione had, in fact, finally started talking about trying for a family in a serious manner. But he knew that Hermione would prefer for him to be circumspect about the issue. However, that knowledge warred with his own nature to defend those that he loved and tell this woman just how much she could be missing out on. But then he heard the door to the back garden slam closed.

"Harry! I know what I've said in the past, but I think we're going to have to do something about the gnome infestation. It's getting out of control."

"Mi Mi Mi Mi," Lillian chanted, a delighted look on her face and her arms outstretched, anticipating her godmother's entrance.

Hermione entered the sitting room and paused only briefly at the sight of her parents, but she quickly gathered herself to go and collect her goddaughter from her father.

"Hello sweetest of girls, did you have fun with Uncle Harry?" She asked as she gathered the toddler up in her arms and returned to Harry's side, a look that was equal parts defiance and hope on her face. "Mum, Dad," she greeted cursorily. "What are you doing here?"

"Hermione," Harry whispered, half warning, half scolding. As surprised as she probably was by their sudden appearance, he knew that she would regret it if she pushed them away with her attitude without even hearing them out. Which he knew made him a hypocrite, given how tempted he'd been to give them a piece of his mind not two minutes ago

"I stand by my question," she murmured as they led her parents into the living room and she fell onto the sofa next to Harry.

Harry gestured for the Grangers to take a seat on the opposite sofa. There was a long beat of silence. Harry wasn't going to break it, and he could almost feel Hermione's determination not to.

"We realized," Helen Granger licked her lips and looked at her husband.

"We've been cowards," Richard Granger took up the narrative for his wife. "No just about how we reacted after your war, but how we treated you after you found out you were a witch. It wasn't our fault that you had magic, but it also wasn't yours."

Harry felt himself bristle, but before he could speak, Hermione did: "It's nobody's _fault_ ," she huffed. "And if you continue to act like it's some kind of disease then our relationship is probably over, " she let out a great heaving sob. "It's not what I want, of course, but my magic is just a part of who I am."

"Hermione-" Her father began.

She shook her head. "It will almost certainly be a part of who my children are and I won't allow you to shame them for it. I've-" she choked on a sob, "I've missed you terribly, but this is important."

"You're right," Helen gasped, "We thought this little one," she gestured to Lillian, "was yours. I'd never forgive myself for missing out on such a thing,"

That startled a chuckle out of Hermione as she gazed at Lillian. "As gorgeous as she is, how could you possibly have thought that Harry and I made a baby who looks like this?" She eyed the little girl's strawberry blonde hair and cornflower blue eyes; but it wasn't just her coloring, she didn't resemble herself or Harry in any way.

"Well, " Helen Granger began, "now that you're all sitting there together it does seem rather improbable. But you have to remember that we don't really know Harry."

There was yet another uncomfortable silence broken only by Lillian making a fuss to get down and then gathering a collection of her toys to entertain herself at her godparents' feet.

"That was your choice," Hermione whispered. "I hate that all you really know of my husband is what I wrote in my letters. And I couldn't possibly express in words how amazing he is."

"We'd like to start changing that," Helen said quietly. "We missed you terribly as well. It took us years to even begin reading your letters. It was easier to just put them- literally- and you- figuratively- into a box and try to get on with our lives."

Harry was wary of their sudden appearance, but he was also anxious to agree with their offer to begin rebuilding the relationship. Things had improved with the Weasleys over the years, especially since they'd been named Lillian's godparents. On top of that, they also had a good support system of friends in America, but Hermione's parents were really the only blood relatives either of them had left, and that felt important to him.

However, he also recognized that it was Hermione's decision. She was sitting rigidly, from what he could tell she'd barely breathed since they sat down. He looked at her out of the corner of his eyes.

She shifted, almost imperceptibly, in his direction, but to him she might as well have been shouting. She reached for him and he took her hand, intertwining their fingers, hoping to impart that, whatever decision she came to, he would support. But when she met his eyes he knew that she was thinking of her own self-exile, of four years on another continent running from feelings which had scared her, and he knew exactly what she was going to say.

"I understand," she let out a shuddering breath. "Welcome to Potter House."

 _ **The End**_

 **Author's note: Well, that's it, I hope you enjoyed it. I can't thank you enough for following me through this journey. Stay safe y'all and, again, thanks for reading!**


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